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REV. ROBERT FERGUSON, D. D. 


LOVE TESTED 

IN THE 

Fires of the Sixties 



By 

REV. ROBERT FERGUSON, D. D. 

Late Member of Co. D, 5th Regt. Tenn., Vol. Inft. U.S.A. 



THE SHAKESPEARE PRESS, 
114-116 East 28th Street, 
New York. 

1912. 




j I'.. 



DEDICATED 
By One of Them to All the 
Rest of Them 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter. Page. 

I. The Church Service 15 

II. The Prevailing Conditions 27 

III. The Sentence to Hang 36 

IV. The Escape from Prison 43 

V. The Empty Cell 51 

' VI. Grandpa in Jail 59 

VII. Old Castle Eock 66 

VIII. The Heroine Captured 74 

IX. The Heroine Rescued 82 

X. Grandfather’s Release 94 

XI. Anna ’s Race for Life 101 

XII. The Final Good-Bye Ill 

XHI. A Mountain Tragedy 118 

XIV. Capturing the Mill 130 

XV. Wounded in Battle 139 

XVI. Anna Found Her Hero 149 

XVII. The Rebel Doctor 159 

XVIH. Captain Dick’s Visit to Mother 169 

XIX. Anna’s Second Race for Life 177 

XX. Dick’s Friendly Shelter 188 

XXI. Kissing the Flag. 198 

XXH. Anna at Headquarters 207 

XXHI. Anna Found Her Uncle 215 

XXIV. Two Weddings 228 


PREFACE. 


The reading public never wegiries with the historic 
recitals that are yet falling from the lips of the old 
tragedians; — the actors who played their part in the 
tragedies of the ‘^sixties/’ when the American Re- 
public was having the warp and woof of her liberties 
re woven. When ‘‘Old Glory” was being rechristened 
with the blood of our fathers and brothers. When 
Americans, brave and true, heroically battled on fields 
of mortal strife ; father against son, and brother 
against brother, each for their convictions of right. 

This book makes not an attempt or pretense to 
literary excellence ; but is rather a sinjple narration of 
events, conditions and of the people of East Tennessee, 
who were loyal to the flag of the Union, when the 
“stuff” that good men and women are made of was 
being tested in the “fires of the sixties.” This effort 
is to present a chapter of unwritten history, in the 
language of the people of whom we write. This story 
is not all fiction, and cannot be classed with books of 
fiction. The characters are real, and some of them are 
yet living in their mountain homes. The names of per- 
sons quoted in official documents, — letters, orders, and 
dispatches, — are matters of record, and public prop- 
erty. But for some of the other characters, we substi- 
tute, to prevent embarrassment, — not being able to se- 
cure their consent. With an earnest desire to inspire, 
or aid in the inspiration of a true patriotism in the 
hearts of our splendid young Americans, I send forth 
this simple^ narration of the heroism of a boy and a 
girl — ‘ ‘ Captain Dick Brown ’ ’ and ‘ ‘ Anna Belle Clark. ’ ’ 

THE AUTHOR, 


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A FORE CHAPTER 


Is necessary that the reader of this Wonderful nar- 
rative may understand why this hook was not pub- 
lished when the first copyright was secured. 

The Author was very much disappointed in being 
unable to obtain the consent of the principal actors, 
or heroes in the tragedies, to the publication of the 
story. They seemed extremely modest, and positively 
refused to have their names presented to the reading 
public as heroes and heroines while yet living, as it 
would call attention to a very disagreeable past they 
very much desired to be forgotten. 

Of course, I had not taken that view of the condi- 
tions; in fact, it had not occurred to my mind. The 
Author had spent much time and labor in correspond- 
ence and travel gathering the facts connected with the 
story, which is not fiction in the main, but a little 
chapter of unwritten history of the tragedies and acts 
of living men and women, as known and witnessed 
during the awful years of the “Sixties,” when fire, 
sword and death swept like an awful deluge over the 
hills, mountains and beautiful valleys of East Tennes- 
see. 

This writer lived with this people, and had been 
one of them all of his life up to this time. Then with 
others escaped overtheCumberlandMountainsto“ God’s 
Country,” from the Confederate conscripting forces 
then riding through the country forcing into the Con- 
federate ranks every able-bodied man in the country. 
Men who were found to have belonged to the Union 
Home Guards or the Union League were forced to 
enter rebel ranks regardless of age. This condition 
forced many who were yet but small boys into Con- 
federate service. 


8 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


After reaching the Northern Army in Kentucky and 
enlisting in the Fifth Tennessee Infantry, U. S. A., and 
after a service of more than three years, I was dis- 
charged, after the close of the war, at the age of twenty 
years. 

Peace at last! Prosperity came with the unfurling 
of our glorious flag, the old ‘‘Stars and Stripes.” No 
North, no South, but one undivided country. A great 
people, and destined to become greater. Then, after 
the lapse of nearly a quarter of a century, I conceived 
the idea of complimenting and honoring in a humble 
way, some of my comrades and friends — the best and 
bravest of the brave, who had been hidden away in 
their obscure little mountain homes since the close of 
the tragedies of the “Sixties.” 

I believe that the story-reading public will be de- 
lighted to know them, as I knew them — the bravest 
and most patriotic of all the great host that had taken 
the sword and rifle to save Union and the flag. 

Yes, I was elated over the prospect of the work I 
would accomplish. I would add a short chapter of un- 
written history to the many volumes now on record. I 
would put the glorious deeds of my friends into prose 
and verse, thinking to happily surprise them as they 
would read their own history by their own firesides. It 
had been many years since I had met them, and there 
was in my heart a longing to see them. Truly, they 
were poor and lived in a poor country, yet proud and 
independent, like the household of a royal family; 
though uncrowned, yet crowned with many God- given 
jewels, more precious than diamonds set in gold. Chil- 
dren beautiful, grown up and strong; grandchildren, 
not a few, of the same independent mountain type of 
royalty. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


9 


But for the empty sleeve of the grandfather, one 
might have easily passed over the thought of there ever 
having been tragedies associated with such royal hap- 
piness. 

For some reason, I could not quite understand, I 
hesitated in making the object of my visit known. They 
were not quite the simple-hearted people I had thought 
of before meeting them. There was a genteel, stately, 
refined deportment that caused me to fear lest I might 
offend the finer sensibilities of these, my best and dear- 
est friends. 

And yet, remembering our relations of the past, 
how could I give offense? Had we not suffered to- 
gether ? Fought on the same field side by side ? Under 
the same flag presented to us by gentle loving hands? 
And had I not traveled nearly a thousand miles to pre- 
sent my little tribute of love of which I thought them 
worthy? This was my mission, and I must accomplish 
it, though the heavens fall. 

I chose my time, after the evening repast, when we 
were wont to rehearse the incidents of the past. Thus, 
lighted and warmed before the old-fashioned fire 
hearth, with its big ‘‘back-log” and “front-stick” piled 
high with flaming fuel. While everything seemed pro- 
picious, yet there was with me a premonition that my 
little offering might be indignantly rejected. At times, 
when referring to the past, when they were the prin- 
cipal actors, they seemed extremely modest in referring 
to themselves. This fact led me to fear that my story 
w^ould be rejected by them, as I had used names and 
places, with incidents well known by many people yet 
living, and some of them (a few) were neighbors. 

To make a beginning, I very modestly suggested to 
the captain: “What a great comfort it would have 
been to our children and grandchildren had we kept a 


10 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


record of those days and the passing events, and what 
a great misfortune that we had no written history, and 
how delighted our children would be if they could have 
had a history of what we passed through. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes,’’ said he, “perhaps they might enjoy such a 
history, and yet it seems to me if it could all be for- 
gotten it would be better for all parties concerned.” 

‘ ‘ Captain, there are things about our struggles' and 
efforts for our country I never want forgotten; they 
are lessons of loyalty and patriotism that the coming 
generations should read and study for the preservation 
of the flag and our Union.” 

“Yes, that is very true, when we think of it from 
that standpoint, and yet it seems so sad that we as 
brothers fought each other to the death because we 
could not agree.” 

“Yes, captain, it was a great misfortune, and yet 
how could we — ^you and I — have done otherwise?” 

“Yes, if it were to do over again, I would do what 
I could to save our Union; I might not do it in the 
same way. We are all wiser now.” 

‘ ‘ One might think you were sorry for what you did, 
when you express your ideas about it now.” This last 
seemed to Are him as I had seen him before. 

“What! Sorry? Never, sir. The best and the 
proudest days of my life are those four years I gave 
to my country.” 

“Now, captain, that sounds like you. I am proud 
of our little captain again when I hear you say that. I 
have with me a manuscript ready to publish in book 
form, your personal life and history, with your won- 
derful victories and escapes during the conflict, and 
expect to publish it for the coming generations to 
read.” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


11 


This was to him a gieat surprise. He asked that I 
repeat the statement, which I did very briefly. Arising 
to his feet, and turning toward me, he looked with 
earnest resentment and great sadness, as he said : 
“Have you done that, and without my consent? How 
could you?’’ 

I saw now the old-time fire coming into his eyes, as 
I had seen it before when he was younger. I knew 
then what it meant, and wondered what it might mean 
now. I continued to face him, and met his strong fiery 
gaze with all the courage I had. Again he tried to 
speak. 

“Great God, man, have you done this unkind thing 
to me and mine ? Oh, why did you do it ? I can never 
— never forg-i-v-e — ” 

I had not yet spoken, I could think of nothing to 
say, and before I could form an answer to what he had 
said, his royal highness had turned upon his heel and 
passed into the next room. He had left me standing 
in the room alone. I could hear him as he seemed to 
have fallen on to the bed in the room. 

“The Queen” had also arisen and followed him, 
closing the door after her. Thus left to myself, I 
looked at the closed door, then at my surroundings, 
wishing that in some way I might make my escape. 
After rehearsing the matter in my mind as best I could, 
I found that in my way of thinking I had committed 
no crime. And yet, I had evidently lost the friendship 
1 prized most. My loom also joined the room of the 
great log fire ; retiring to it, but not to sleep for a time, 
I was wondering how I could make my escape the fol- 
lowing morning. 

Morning came and I was wondering what the greet- 
ing might be, when a gentle rapping on my door with 
“Breakfast, please.” Now I must face the inevitable, 


12 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


and make the best presentation possible. My toilet 
was made hastily^ and stepping out into the great room, 
I was not a little surprised to see my host and hostess 
standing side by side in the middle of the room await- 
ing me. Advancing toward me with outstretched hands, 
they greeted me with great kindness, asking my par- 
don for the treatment I had received the evening be- 
fore. They had taken me unguarded and unexpectedly, 
so that I seemed to have no convenient answer, which 
they took for feeling against them, which caused them 
again to apologize for the treatment given me the even- 
ing before. I assured them I had no ill feeling because 
of the event. 

The sky was clear and all was bright again. The 
eyes that flashed fire the evening before, were now 
alight with the old-time friendship and love. But my 
thoughts were concerned with how I was to get away 
from this place and people, and if once out of the tangle 
I would stay out, and the history and story might re- 
main unrecorded and untold, as for me or my efforts 
in the future. 

The morning meal was cheerful ; the family worship 
the same as usual. And yet there seemed as if there 
was an indefinite something lacking. The morning 
prayer by the master of the house seemed, if possible, 
more earnest; a deeper note of thankful praise was 
offered up, also an earnest petition in the behalf of 
‘‘Our very dear friend beneath our roof-tree.” Our 
social relations became more and more happy if pos- 
sible, as the days passed by. Nature seemed at her 
best, as we rode and walked through forest and over 
the hills and fields where we were boys together and 
had spent our happy childhood. We were together 
again over the same ground where shot and shell had 
thundered and shaken the ^arth, and rent the great, 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


13 


gray rocks — where the cruel fire with its consuming 
rage had lighted up every landscape of this now beau- 
tiful valley. 

But this is not a part of the story, and too painful 
to dwell upon at this time, when we are trying to shake 
hands over the past and forget as much of it as we 
should and be friends. No mention had been made of 
the incident of the eventful evening when I had at- 
tempted to make my little offering which had been so 
painfully rejected, until the day preceding my leaving 
them for my home in the North. 

I had left my story with them, or where they could 
find it and read it. This I knew they had done. They 
finally suggested that we talk the matter over as to its 
merits and demerits. They persistently contended that 
the main points, which concerned them most and made 
heroes out of them, be left out. But I contended that 
to omit that part would be to cut the very heart out 
of the story and make it worthless and uninteresting. 

With all the force I could bring to bear upon them 
I failed to get their consent to publish my story until 
“ later. They requested that I would not print the 
story without their consent. I gave them my promise, 
and intended to keep it for them while they lived. 
There were others of the story — real characters — I se- 
cured their permission. Finally, just as the time came 
for me to leave them, very unexpectedly they, our hero 
and heroine, also gave their consent. And now the 
story is before you. And the writer is well assured you 
will enjoy the reading of a simple narration of the 
wonderful life of a boy and a girl who passed through 
the fires of the “Sixties,” that tested their love for 
each other and also that for their country and the flag. 








FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


15 


• CHAPTER 1. ’ 

THE CHUKCH SERVICE. 

The old log church house had been a landmark in this 
part of the country for past generations for this people. 
Here they had brought their children for consecration. 
Here their fathers and mothers were converted and 
baptized. Their dead were brought to this place and 
buried in the old churchyard. It had been to them and 
their fathers a sacred place for many years. The old- 
time spelling schools, debating societies, and town 
meetings for all purposes, were all held at the old 
“meetin ’-house.” 

One of the most interesting of these gatherings was 
the Sunday afternoon singing school, where the young 
people gathered for social entertainment, while their 
elders remained at home, resting and discussing the 
theological questions suggested by the pastor’s morn* 
ing sermon. 

But the time and the particular day with which this 
chapter has to do was just after that most unfortunate 
day for the Southland, the fourteenth day of April, 
when Fort Sumpter was fired on and passed into the 
hands of the Confederates. This date was a beautiful 
sun-lit day in this picturesque little valley. The Spring 
birds sang their sweetest songs, as they floated in 
gorgeous hues from tree to tree, each contesting seem* 
ingly for the highest and sweetest note. The soft, 
sweet breath of the spring-tide distilled from up and 
down the hillsides, from the fields and meadows, 
ladened with the perfume of the spring flowers. All 


16 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


nature seemed in sweet accord with ‘‘Peace and good- 
will to men on earth,” everywhere. 

It was the circuit “preaching day,” and the people 
were gathering at the church, coming from up and 
down the valley and from the hills, along the by-roads 
and pathways, from every direction. They were the 
good, honest, common people, true and hard-working. 
Hear their greetings — “Good mornin’. Bill.” “Howdy 
Sam.” “Goin’ to meetin’, s’pose?” “Well, reckon I 
am.” “S’pose your goin’ that way, too?” 

Say, these circuit preachin’ days durin’ the week 
takes rite smart of a feller’s time from the plow these 
hard times, eh?” 

“Say, Bill, there is somethin’ a-comin’ what will 
take more time than circuit preachin’, I reckon, unless 
I miss my guess.” “What’s that, Sam?” 

“Well, you’ll find out soon enough for yer own 
good, I’m afeered there’s goin’ to he mighty bad times, 
and that plaguey soon, from the looks of things.” 

“I’ve been feelin’ might quar fer rite smart hit, 
I been feelin’ it in my bones.” 

“ Yes, I know what you mean. You think there- is 
goin’ to be war?” 

“Yes, I feel that way, too, and God pity us when it 
comes. It will crush us people here between the North 
and the South in East Tennessee. ’ ’ 

This will suffice for an illustration of the impression 
that seemed to possess these poor uneducated mountain 
people, unrefined, and yet impressed with a pending 
doom that seemed hanging over them as they followed 
their daily avocations. They were, however, not all of 
the lower and uneducated class, and yet all classes 
were impressed with a coming crisis. 

This particular day, the old church house was filled 
with anxious waiting people. They were standing in 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


17 


the yard, and at the door and windows, expecting the 
preacher to begin the services. Each face seemed to 
wear the expression of expectancy, and no one could 
have divined the cause, hut for the war-cloud. 

The times were ominous, therefore public gather- 
ings were crowded, especially the preaching services. 
People came from far and near, ostensibly to church, 
hut really to hear the news of the day. On this occa- 
sion there was a horse for every tree in the surrounding 
woods, and sometimes two or three. The fence en- 
circling the graves of the dead were surrounded on 
its four sides with restless horses pawing the earth, 
as if they, too, were breathing the portentious excite- 
ment of coming events. Their riders were gathered in 
groups, quietly and earnestly talking in low tones, 
with clouded brows and anxious faces, asking each his 
neighbor, “Any news today?” “Will they force us 
out of the Union?” “Will they force the State to 
rebel?” “If they do, we will fight to the hitter end; 
that will mean death to many of us. Anyway, very 
many better men than we have died for the flag of their 
country. ’ ’ 

The preacher had announced the first hymn, reading 
the first verse, as was the custom at the time : 

“A charge to keep I have, 

^ A God to glorify; 

A never dying soul to save, 

And fit it for the sky.” 

But before the leader started to sing there came 
through doors and windows the shout of a man, accom- 
panied by the sound of steel-shod hoofs over the rocks 
of the hillside. All eyes and ears instantly turned from 
the preacher. Men were instantly on their feet, alert 
to get the first news. 


18 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘Fort Sumpter is fired on! To arms, men! To 
arms ! ’ ’ 

The foaming steed stood by the door, the rider 
leaned his body far into the door and again shouted, 
“Fort Sumpter is fired on, and taken by the Seces- 
sionists.” The birds sang sweetly, the sun shone 
brightly and all nature seemed joyful; but to these 
poor people this was a day of the blackest night. No 
one seemed to be able to olfer a word of comfort or 
counsel to his fellow. Men walked away from the 
crowd and stood gazing silently toward the distant 
fills, alone with their thoughts. 

Soon they were gathering in small groups, talking 
earnestly of the unpromising future that awaited them. 
Men who were strong and resolute turned away sick 
at heart and sought objects against which they might 
lean their trembling forms, or upon which they might 
sit. The women well knew what it might mean to 
them, yet they were ready to offer courage, where men 
would listen to words of hope and comfort. A few of 
the more nervous seemed to faint, while here and there 
was heard a cry of fear. Many of the smaller children 
began crying aloud, not knowing what it all meant. 

They were a loyal Union people, living in the South, 
with all that was near and dear to them; they loved 
their homes, they loved their beautiful Southland with 
its flowers and balmy breezes. They seemed possessed 
with a premonition of what all this might mean to them 
in the immediate future. 

The preacher, who later proved himself a warrior 
and a prince among men and a gallant leader of men, 
said, as he put aside his Bible and hymnbook, “Men 
and brothers : The clock of destiny strikes high twelve 
with us to-day; many of you have followed my advice 
in spiritual things and found it to your profit, I think. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


19 


I have baptized your children, I have stood with you 
by your open graves when you buried your dead, and 
have walked with you in prosperity and adversity. 
But what about this hour to-day? My heart is breaking 
for you, I know what it means for you all. 

‘‘Yes, I have tried to think it all out alone with 
God. Do you think because I am your unworthy 
pastor that I am going to leave you to fight these 
other battles alone? No, I will not, God helping me. 
What is this awful thing that has come upon us to-day ? 
I lift my vision. I see our Southland all torn and 
bleeding. What does it mean? 

“I know how our people are divided, and do not 
forget the fact that we are brothers, thoilgh divided in 
our convictions. Yes, in this, our brothers are our 
enemies and have their honest convictions; they think 
they are right, and will fight and die for their convic- 
tions of right. Again, I look out into the future, I see 
brothers, sons of the same father and mother, in deadly 
combat, each trying to take the life of the other ; I see 
sons and fathers trying to kill each other; I see our 
beautiful women starving and dying for food, our 
children homeless and orphaned, our homes and school 
houses, also our churches swept from us with sword 
and fire in the hand of an unmerciful enemy. 

“I do not wonder at you, as I see you pale and trem- 
bling as this terrible news sweeps the land to-day. In 
the name of God, and in His awful presence we have 
our convictions of the right and of the truth.’’ 

“Be patient with me, brothers, yet a little. This 
may be my last sermon to you ; I, too, have strong con- 
victions; I have held council with God over this mat- 
ter, and if He wills it so, I am going to take the field 
for my country and the flag, and will give my life if 
necessary to that end. Leave you? No, I am going 


20 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


with you, and I will do what I can. Let us to our guns, 
and prove ourselves worthy the name of Americans 
sons, sons of our fathers who gave us our liberties. 

“We are dismissed, and may the God of Nations be 
with you.’’ 

Then, again lifting his hand to his congregation for 
attention — “Just a moment, please.” He bowed his 
head, while his great manly form shook with the storm 
of emotion sweeping over his broken heart, then rally- 
ing himself as if to say more, but failing in this, simply 
said, “I can say no more; you may go.” 

While this was the saddest day in the history of 
old Pleasant Hill Church, yet at this final declaration 
of their pastor, as he dismissed his people, they sent 
up a mighty cheer for him, then repeated it, again 
and again. The men gathered about him, requesting 
him to be their captain. To this, however, he deferred 
his answer until another time. 

“I have not yet decided as to the part I may take 
in this confiict, but remember I am with you to do all 
I can to help save tlie Union. However, I would pre- 
fer being one in the rank and file of the company you 
may organize.” 

Truly a great cloud had gathered over their beau- 
tiful South. A fiery bolt had fallen, and many went 
from the old church house that day never to return. 
Some of them became victims under charges as traitors 
and Tories, to be confined as military prisoners of war 
in the military prison at Tuskaloosa, Ala. This was 
equivalent to death ; it was death only deferred. 
Others were convicted as “Lincolnite bridge-burners” 
and promptly executed, except when escape was pos- 
sible. Others again were more fortunate in finally 
reaching the Northern army, and fell on an honorable 
field of battle. A few of them were successful in pass- 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


21 


ing through the entire conflict and returning to their 
homes victorious, years after. 

Lest the opportunity may pass, it is well to record 
the fact that the pastor of this old church fought his 
way through to the Northern army and enlisted, and 
was made the chaplain of his regiment, remaining with 
them, doing brave and valiant service in the fleld, 
making good all that he had promised that day in the 
old church. When his regiment was marching from 
Murfreesboro to Carthage, Tenn., he and a comrade, 
marching in the rear of the column, were suddenly 
rushed by a band of bush-whackers, who surprised 
them from ambush, capturing and murdering them be- 
fore help could arrive. 

This being not far from his former home, it was 
supposed that these vandals recognized him and took 
their revenge. 

When the pastor deferred his answer as to being 
their captain, another of these brave men. Captain 
William Brown, upon the solicitation of the men, began 
the organization of a company. He thought, as did 
many other mistaken men, that by organizing and 
standing together, they might he able to prevent the 
Confederacy from invading East Tennessee. There 
was a prevailing idea that the war would be of short 
duration, this being the opinion, not only with this peo- 
ple, but throughout the North and South. 

‘‘The Yankees would be only a breakfast spell for 
the South,’’ said the Confederates. 

“We will clean out this rebellion in a month or 
two,” said the North. 

But few, even of the far-seeing ones, could realize 
at its beginning the enormity of the great war of the 
sixties. The flrst shot had been flred and the chivalry 
of the South were in the saddle; this they realized, 


22 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


and the dark cloud was still rising, gathering darkness 
and growing larger and more threatening, until 
churches were closed and ministers were arrested for 
preaching and praying for the Union. All public 
meetings and public speaking was forbidden. The 
common mail service was suspended, thus isolating the 
common people from all communication with the out- 
side world, until they were absolutely in ignorance of 
what was going on outside of their immediate com- 
munity. 

Captain Brown’s company had become quite well 
drilled, but were compelled to conduct their drilling, 
in private places. They and many other like organiza- 
tions held their drill and council meetings by night, 
under the cover of darkness. The ‘‘Union League” 
was organized throughout the various counties of East 
Tennessee. Secret lodges were resorted to, with grips 
and pass-words, signs and other devices, as aids in hold- 
ing intact the organization, that it might aid in the 
struggle against the common enemy. 

A line of communication was established between 
the lodges, for the purpose of sending general orders 
and pass-words from lodge to lodge. This was carried 
on by a system of fast horse-carriers, requiring great 
skill and bravery upon the part of the carriers. Cap- 
ture meant quick execution. This organization saved 
thousands from surrendering in despair, finally leading 
them to the Northern army to become soldiers for the 
flag they loved. 

The large numbers of Confederate troops shipped 
into the State soon dispelled the idea of defending any 
part of it from Confederate invasion. They were not 
only unable to keep them out, but they demanded re" 
emits from the State, by virtue of the right to enforce 
the law of conscription, it being a Confederate State, 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


23 


voted out of the Union by an election of the people. 
The ‘^vote of the people/’ however, was cast by rebel 
soldiers sent into the State for voting purposes; and 
the counting was also by Confederate commissioners; 
therefore, the State voted out." 

When they began drafting for the Confederate 
Army, the loyal people resented it, and it brought war 
to their doors. The home guard companies, with their 
brave leaders, withstood their numerous foes for weeks 
and months, often defeating them in the mountain 
passes and other places advantageously chosen for the 
battle. They had a decided advantage of the enemy, 
in that they were acquainted with all the roads, paths, 
mountains, rivers and crossings. These circumstances 
made it possible for them at times to defeat and drive 
from the country four times their number. 

In these home guard companies were old men and 
boys. The old men had been active in the general 
movement against the Confederacy, and the boys had 
been enlisted in the Union League service as dispatch 
Carriers, therefore rendering it necessary for them to 
remain with the home guards for personal protection. 
(The writer was one of the boys on duty at the time 
of which we are writing). 

One of these small boys, who is the hero of this 
story, sat upon the “top rail” of his father’s yard 
fence with his head down, his chin resting on his hand, 
sadly dejected and disappointed. His father had for- 
bade his joining the home guards, and yet his services 
in the League had been valuable. “You are only six- 
-teen years old, and are asking for a thing that might 
bring you into serious complications. I think you had 
better stay at home with mother; she will need you 
very much when I 9<m gone/’ Sciid the father, 


24 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


^‘Well, father, perhaps I can’t stay at home as you 
suggest; don’t you remember that Uncle John said that 
the old rebel, Captain Coon, Lad my name with the 
rest as a dispatch carrier and a spy? You know I 
entered their camp, and if the little horse had not 
outrun them they would have caught me.” 

“Yes, yes, I remember, but perhaps the Captain 
hasn’t your name on that kind of a list, you are a 
mere boy. Then what could you do if you were ad- 
mitted to the company?” 

“Father, you know I have a mighty good gun and 
can hit the mark every time fifty yards.” 

“Yes, my son, I know you are a good marksman; I 
am proud of you, and I am expecting you to be a good 
man, hut I want to save you from the evils that beset 
young men. ’ ’ 

“Well, father, the Captain is certainly one of them, 
and the greatest one I know of, and he is trying his 
best to beset me, and I think the best place in the 
world for you to save me is with you in your com- 
pany.” 

Keally, the father had been thinking that way him- 
self, since the boy mentioned Captain Coon. This Cap- 
tain was a Confederate officer with a company of men 
gathering up conscripts and confiscating arms as he 
could find them. He also had special authority to bring 
to headquarters any of the Union Leaguers that he 
might find, as they were classed as traitors and Tories. 

“My son, this is no boy’s work; it is going to be 
more bloody than anything in our history; it' will re- 
quire the nerve of the best men to succeed.” 

“Father, you know I am already a member of the 
Union League, and old Coon knows that; I carried 
dispatches from our lodge to other lodges, and Coon 
knows that; also he knows that I outran them when 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


25 


they chased me from Rocky Ford, when Nell ran off 
with me and outran their best horses. That was when 
I went into their camp and counted them for Captain 
Campbell, and reported their number. He told you it 
was a great work, but I don’t care for that, I only 
want to take a part in this fight and I am going to do 
it if I can; I don’t feel like I can stay at home.” 

‘‘Well, well, my son, I will take the matter under 
advisement. ’ ’ 

This last gave the boy encouragement; he knew 
that after his father thought the matter over he would 
give his consent. He leaped from the fence and ran 
to the stables. “Ah, Nell, you are a jewel of a horse; 
we’ll have some more fun before this thing is ended.” 

After patting her nose, and talking to her some 
more, he climbed up into the haymow and drew his 
fine gun from its concealment and began inspecting it 
carefully in every part. Then replacing it in the hiding 
place, remarking to the gun: “I guess you are ready 
when I am ready for you.” 

The boy had been the idol of the home; his father 
was greatly concerned for the welfare of his son 
Richard. He had observed characteristics in the boy 
that gave him much solicitude. The fearless, dashing 
and daring spirit of the lad might bring him to an un- 
timely end. 

Captain Brown was a man of intelligence for his 
day. Again and again he had been honored by his 
fellow citizens. Elected as justice of the peace, then 
judge of the county court, and now Captain of the 
company, which seemed the most important of all. 
Having proved himself brave and true in time of dan- 
ger, his men admired him greatly and would follow 
him anywhere. They were ever ready to risk their 


26 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


lives in obedience to bis orders, and did it, time and 
again. 

At the next council meeting Dick was admitted to 
the company by a unanimous vote and named “The 
Little Captain.’^ A happier and prouder little man 
never carried a gun. In their next skirmish with the 
enemy, Dick proved himself worthy of all the honors 
conferred upon him. The old Captain reprimanded 
him for his rashness. Dick replied: “Well, father, I 
wanted to show you that you made no mistake when 
you took me into your company, and when I get a 
chance I’ll show you again what I can do ; you see they 
do not expect anything of me, and that gives me a 
good opportunity” 

One evening, at roll-call, Dick was absent, no one 
knew where. His absence was considered seriously for 
a time. He had gone to the home of a very dear 
friend, a school and class-mate, with whom he desired 
to share his happiness in the success he had attained in 
his recent accomplishments. She, too, is destined to be- 
come a heroine, and is therefore one of the principal 
characters in the tragedy herein narrated. She was 
six months younger than Dick, the only daughter of a 
widowed mother, a beautiful girl, vivacious, ambitious, 
ever bubbling over with gleeful wit, surprising for one 
of her age. She was at the head of her class and would 
have graduated at the end of the next term had the 
Academy not been broken up by the war. She was an 
expert in the saddle with a good horse; her little 
Kentucky charger was one of her greatest delights. 

She, too, had volunteered her services, and had in- 
sisted on carrying a dispatch through the lines into the 
City of Knoxville, having relatives living in the city. 
Her friends, thinking it safe, consented. She delivered 
the message and returned with an answer. This sue- 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


27 


cessful effort in service in the cause of her country, 
so fired her heart with patriotism that she sought far- 
ther service to her friends in the confiict. She became 
very useful to them, as her shrewd method of disguises 
to deceive the enemy were marvels of excellency. 

CHAPTER H. 

THE PEEVAILIHG CONDITIONS. 

In this chapter, the author deems it advisable to 
acquaint the reader with some of the prevailing con- 
ditions surrounding the stage upon which our charac- 
ters are acting, lest they throw aside the story, saying 
it is overdrawn. The evidence of conditions offered 
cannot be doubted, as they are matters of record on 
file and can be seen. After the close of the war. Cap- 
tan Dan Ellis wrote a book giving in detail many of 
the most wonderful tragedies of the Civil War in East 
Tennessee. 

During the war, ‘‘Parson’^ W. G. Brownlow, after 
his escape from the Confederacy, published a book 
known as ‘‘ Brownlow ’s Book.” This chapter has ex" 
tensive quotations of records taken from this book, 
and they are authentic. 

The confiict between the Unionists and Confederates 
became intense by the Confederate effort to draft and 
conscript Union people into the Confederate service; 
also in their effort to disarm them of all weapons of 
warfare. In the process, men and women were merci- 
lessly maltreated by irresponsible, heartless persons 
who only wanted an excuse to vent the devilish spirit 
of their nature. Property was confiscated, houses 
burned from over the heads of innocent women and 
children, rendering them homeless and suffering for 
the necessities of existence. Unionists who might have 


28 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


escaped to the North, remained to avenge the wrongs 
inflicted upon their families. 

The Union party during the conflict were expecting 
every day that the promised relief from the North 
would arrive, as the Northern army was then in Ken- 
tucky, on the northern side of the Cumberland Moun- 
tains. In their earnest efforts to render aid to the 
coming army of relief, the Union people devised the 
plan by which they might destroy the railroad bridges 
in the country. This they accomplished to a great ex- 
tent, which proved a very great misfortune to them, 
as the army of relief failed to arrive. This bridge- 
burning brought down on their heads the fiery wrath 
of the enemy in all of its fury. Many innocent men 
were executed as ‘‘bridge-burners,” who were never 
within forty miles of a burning bridge. 

When the Northern army failed to reach them, the 
real struggle for life began. To surrender was death 
to many, for there had been a price set upon their 
heads; to be captured was the same. Therefore, the 
united effort was to save themselves by crossing the 
mountains to the Northern army. All the roads and 
highways, river crossings and every avenue leading to 
or through these mountains were carefully guarded by 
the enemy to prevent any one from escaping. 

We have only to reproduce the correspondence 
that passed between the Confederate officers ; also that 
of the Secretary of War for the Confederate States, 
directing the movements of the Confederate forces in 
this part of the country at this time, to confirm our 
statements concerning “prevailing conditions.” These 
letters, orders and telegrams were captured at the Bat- 
tle of Mill Springs, Ky., where Gen. Zollicoffer, the 
Confederate commander, was killed, and his headquar- 
ters captured. They are now on file in the War De- 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


29 


partment in Washington City. The reader will not fail 
to observe that much of this correspondence was by 
private citizens, who busied themselves spying out the 
movements of the Union people : 

Louden, East Tenn., Nov. 10, 1861. 

Colonel Wood. 

Dear Sir: Captain Canoods Company arrived here 
at six P. M. yesturday, and are pitching their tents 
to-day at the north end of the bridge, while Captain 
Eldredg is at the southern end. Extra pickets were 
posted during the night, hut no demonstration was 
made from any point, and the night passed quietly. 
The Union feeling in this County is exceedingly bitter, 
and all they want in my opinion to induce an uprising 
is a little encouragement from the Lincoln army. 
They have a great many arms and are actually manu- 
facturing Union Flags, to receive the refugee Tennes- 
seens when they arrive. They are getting hold enough. 
If I had one or two more companies, a great many arms 
might be procured here in this neighborhood ; — I mean, 
if we had the force to spare from bridge. 

Very respectfully, 

S. SLASSEN, Major Commanding. 

The “Refugee Tennesseens” referred to in the 
above were men who escaped from East Tennessee the 
preceding August, and formed the First and Second 
Tennessee regiments in the Northern army, and their 
arrival was actually expected at that time by friends 
and foes. 

Athens, Tenn., Nov. 10, 1861. 
Colonel Wood, Knoxville, Tenn. 

I have reliable information that some Lincolnites 
are under arms in Hamilton County, ostensibly for 
Jamestown. Their destination more likely is Loudon 
bridge, C. WALLIS, President. 


30 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


JacksboroTigh, Nov. 9, 1861. 
Colonel W. B. Wood, Knoxville, Tenn. 

Sir; Your dispatch just received informing me of 
the burning of Hiwassee bridge, and other bridges on 
the railroad and asking for reinforcements. Colonel 
Bowel’s regiment being five miles from here on the 
Knoxville road, I have sent him an order to be ready 
to march at five o ’clock to-morrow morning, for Knox- 
ville, making a forced march. 

He is instructed to communicate immediately with 
you on his arrival. You will be in command and make 
such disposition of the forces as you may see proper. 

Brigadier General W. H. Carroll’s three regiments 
have been ordered to report to me, but have not re- 
ported. I have no knowledge as to where they are. 
I have expected them by now at Knoxville. Have you 
any knowledge where they are? 

Very respectfully, 

E. K. ZOLLICOFFER, Brigadier General. 

(Telegram). 

Colonel Wood. 

About nine hundred men, part of them from Brad- 
ley County, left Clift ’s in this County to-day, in squads, 
either to organize against this place or Loudon bridge, 
or to meet Union forces from Kentucky. They have 
some wagons and are partly armed. The Regiment 
is formidable. Send word to Gen. Zolicoffer that he 
may catch them. 

(Signed) JOHN L. HOPKINS. 

(Telegram). 

Charleston, Tenn., Nov. 12, 1861. 

To Glispie and Kee : — 

Jeff Mathias is in twelve miles of this place, he has 
one hundred men. We can disperse them. Shall we 
do it? I expect help from you immediately. 

(Signed) SMITH AND McKEE. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


31 


(Telegram). 

To General Gillespia : — • 

They have formed a camp at Bower’s near Smith’s 
Cross roads. They may return to this place or Loudon. 
They calculate to organize one thousand men. Reliable. 
(Signed) JOHN L. HOPKINS. 

The following order from General Zollicoffer, per- 
tains to the neighborhood of this writer, and also the 
people in it, who were armed. And it might he re- 
corded, that they did not get the arms. The roads re* 
ferred to were the roads contended for by the refugees 
going North to the Northern army: 

Brigade Headquarters, Jackshoro, Nov. 12, 1861. 
Colonel W. B. Wood. 

Knoxville, Tenn. 

The express man reached me this evening at nine 
o ’clock, with two letters from you, both dated Nov. 11. 

You say the tory force is augmenting at Pawpaw 
Hollow, from the adjoining counties. Please state what 
County Pawpaw Hollow is in. You say you enclose me 
a dispatch from John L. Hopkins, Chattanooga, but no 
dispatch is enclosed. 

I have two Cavalry companies under Captain Rowan 
near Oliver’s on the road from Knoxville to Mont- 
gomery, and two on the road from Huntsville to Chit- 
wood’s. But your omission to send the dispatch from 
Hopkins, and incidental illusion to cutting off some- 
body near Kingston, leaves me at a loss what orders to 
send there, please give all the information you may 
have which will enable me to intercept any tories at- 
tempting to pass toward Montgomery, Jamestown, 
Huntsville or Post Oak Springs. 

I rejoice that you have caught six of the bridge- 
burners. I am yet unadvised as to what bridges are 
actually burned. Or whether my intended telegrams 
have been transmitted over the wires. I will to-mor- 
row send telegrams to the forces at Jamestown, the 


32 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


cavalry near Huntsville, and that near Olivers, and the 
cavalry here to commence simultaneously to disarm the 
Union inhabitants. You will please send orders to all 
simultaneously to all detachments under your com- 
mand to inaugurate the same movement at the same 
time, in their various localities. Their leaders should 
be seized and held prisoners. The leniency shown them 
has been unavailing, they have acted with duplicity 
and should no longer be trusted. 

(Signed) 

F. K. ZOLLICOFFER, Bragadier General. 

(Letter from Col. Wood to Gen’l Zollicoffer). 

Knoxville, October 28, 1861. 

General: — The news of your falling back to Cum- 
berland Ford has had the effect to develop a feeling 
that had only been kept under by the presence of 
troops. It was so plainly that the Union men were so 
glad they could hardly repress ^an open expression of 
their joy. 

This afternoon it assumed an open character, and 
some eight or ten bullies or leaders made an attack on 
some of my men near the Lamer House and seriously 
wounded several. 

Gentlemen who witnessed the affair say my men 
gave no offense, and were not at all to blame. The 
affair became directly general and couriers were sent 
to apprise me at my camp of its existence. I immedi- 
ately marched Captain White’s Cavalry and one hun- 
dred of my men into the town to arrest the assailants, 
but they had made their escape. The southerners here 
are considerably alarmed, believing there is a pre- 
concerted plan for action among the Union men, if by 
any means the enemy should get in to Tennessee. 

Lieutenant Swan told me tonight he heard one say 
this evening, as Captain White’s Cavalry rode through 
town, that they could do so now, but in less than ten 
days the Union forces would be there and run them off. 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


33 


I can not tell yon the many evidences of disalfection 
which are manifest every day, and the increased bold- 
ness it is assuming. 

Very respectfully, 

(Signed) W. B. WOOD, CoF Com’g Post. 

(This same Colonel Wood. Says in a letter to his 
Commanding General) : 

“Five of the incendiaries have been arrested that 
burned the Dick Creek bridge. The bridge at Union 
has been destroyed. One at Charleston and two on the 
Western and Atlantic road below Chattanooga. I have 
a company at Lick Creek. But the incendaries deceived 
them, and took possession of their guns and took them 
prisoners and accomplished their purpose. ’’ 

The hero of this narrative was in this Lick Creek 
affair, and the real facts were the Union men charged 
them in their camp and they surrendered, and begged 
for their lives without a battle; there was not a gun 
fired, they had heard that these Lincolnite 'mur- 
derer s'' killed all prisoners taken and were very much 
alarmed. 

One more letter from this commander. Colonel 
Wood, to the Hon. J. P. Benjamin, Secretary of War, 
of the Confederacy, and the answer thereto, and I shall 
have served the purpose of introducing this corre- 
spondence at this time and place in this book : 

Knoxville, Tennessee, Nov. 20, 1861. 

To the Honorable J. P. Benjamin, Secretary of War. 

Sir : — The rebellion in East Tennessee has been put 
down in some of the Counties, and will he effectually 
suppressed in two weeks in all the Counties. Their 
camps in Sevier and Hamilton Counties have been 
broken up, and a large number of them made prisoners. 
Some of them have been confined in this place, and 
some of them have been sent to Nashville. 

In a former communication I enquired of the De- 
partment what I should do. It is a mere farce to arrest 
them and turn them over to the courts. 


34 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


Instead of having the effect to intimidate them, it 
really gives them courage, and emboldens them in their 
traitorous conduct. 

Patterson, the Son-in-law of Andrew Johnson. 
(This was the Honorable Mr. Patterson, Son-indaw of 
the late President of the United States), and State Sen- 
ator Pickens, and others of influence and distinction in 
their counties. These men have encouraged the re- 
bellion and have so managed as not to be caught in 
arms. Nevertheless all their actions and words have 
been unfriendly to the government of the Confederate 
States. Their wealth and influence have been exerted 
in favor of the Lincoln government. And they are the 
parties most to blame. They really deserve the gal- 
lows, and if consistent with the laws, ought to speedily 
receive their just deserts. There is such a gentle spirit 
of conciliation in the South, and especially here, that 
I do not believe any one of them would receive such a 
sentence at the hands of any jury. I have been here at 
this station for three months, half of the time in com- 
mand of this Post, and I have a good opportunity of 
learning the feeling pervading this Country. It is 
hostile to the Confederate Government. 

They will take the oath of allegiance without any 
intention of keeping it. They are the slaves of John- 
son and Maynard and never intend to be otherwise. 
When arrested they suddenly become very submissive, 
and declare they are for peace, and not supporters of 
the Lincolon Government, and yet claim to be Union 
men. At one time when our forces were at Knoxville 
they gave out that a great change had taken place in 
East Tennessee, and at the zvitJidrawal of the army 
from here to the Gap^ and the first intimatioii of 
the coming of the Lincoln army^ they were in arms, 
and scarcely a mart of them but zvhat was ready to join 
them and make zvar upon us. 

The prisoners we have, told us they had every as- 
surance that the enemy was in the State and would join 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


35 


them in a few days. I have suggested at least that the 
prisoners we have he held, if not traitors, prisoners of 
war. To release them is ruinous; to convict them be- 
fore a court is next to an impossibility, but if they are 
kept in prison for the next six months, it will have a 
good effect. 

The bridge-burners and spies ought to be tried at 
once. 

Yours very respectfully, 

(Signed) W. B. WOOD. 

(The Secretary’s Reply.) 

War Department, Richmond, Ya., Nov. 25, 1861. 

^ Colonel W. B. Wood. 

Sir : — Your report of the twentieth inst received, I 
now proceed to give you the desired instruction in rela- 
tion to the prisoners of war taken by you among the 
traitors of East Tennessee. 

First. — All such as can be identified as bridge-burn- 
ers, are to be tried summarily by drum head court 
martial, and if found guilty, executed on the spot 'by 
ha7iging. It ivould be well to leave their bodies ha^iging 
in the vicinity of the burned bridges. 

Second. — All such as have not been so engaged are to 
be treated as prisoners of war, and are to be sent with 
a guard to Tuscaloosa, Ala. there to be kept imprisoned 
at the depot selected by the Government for prisoners 
of war. When ever you can discover that arms are con- 
centrated by these traitors, you will send out detach- 
ments, search for and seize the arms. In no case is one 
of the men known to have been up in arms against the 
Government to be released on any pledge or oath of 
allegiance. The^time is past for such measures. They 
are all to be held as prisoners of war. Such as come in 
voluntarily and take the oath of allegiance, and sur- 
render their arms, are alone to be treated with leniency. 


36 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


Your vigilent execution of these orders is earnestly 
urged by the Government. 

Your obedient servant, 

(Signed) J. P. BENJAMIN, Secretary of War. 

P. S. Col. Wood. 

Judge Patterson, (Andrew Johnson’s son-in-law, 
Rem. Corresp.) Colonel Pickens, and other ringleaders 
of the same class, must be sent at once to Tuscaloosa, 
to jail as prisoners of war.” 

CHAPTER HI. 

THE SENTENCE TO HANG. 

^‘Grandpa Brown is a mighty good man.” And a 
great many little people said so. And not a few said, 
“He is my Gandpa, too.” His home was typical of the 
old regime of the South. Commonplace, not elegant, 
but romantic and esthetic, comfortable, cosy. A beau- 
tiful illustration of the refined and artistic of the higher 
class of southern society that was not superficial but 
real. An ideal southern plantation home, tending to 
the happiness of parents and children. 

For those days, his was a great house, long porches 
extending from end to end on either side. The great 
brick chimneys built at either end, and on the outside 
of the house, all clad in beautiful ivy. The great spring 
of water near by with its cold crystal fountain rushing 
out from beneath the moss'covered ledges, just under 
the hill, forming the little cascade, where the small 
boy with his pin-hook pestered the little fishes that 
played silver-bo-peep with the golden sunbeams. 

The great trees about the house furnished cool in- 
viting shade from the summer heat, and bent their 
forms as a storm-shield against the blasts of the winter, 
like guards of honor, protecting alike hosts and guests. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


37 


Those grand old trees, centurians, the beach and the 
chestnut, the oak and the cedar, beautiful and majestic. 
The weeping willow and the balm-of-gilead — all there 
yet, like sentinels watching over the sacred old manor. 
The garden, fenced with the split palings; the gate, 
with the chain and swinging hammer to keep it closed ; 
the old orchard, and the new as well, where the famous 
pippins, bell-flowers, rambos and russets grew. 

And those peaches, “The Queen of the Realm, 
“Princess,” “The Blush of the Maid.” It was a “joy 
forever” to walk down these glorious archways in 
blooming time, breathing the breath of the fragrant 
flowers. There, too, were the great wide open fields 
of corn, wheat, rye and hay; also “the big pastures.” 

To the little seven-year-old, there were a “thousand 
cattle” and a “million sheep” on grandpa’s farm. To 
visit there, was like the children of Israel entering the 
land of Canaan flowing with milk and honey. Happy 
childhood ! innocent and pure, go back and live it over 
again for a time; it will sweeten your life. But now, 
the change ! Alas, the change ! Where are those happy 
people? — the white and the black? 

One has truly said, “War is hell.” All are broken. 
The willows weep not alone now, but as the balmy 
South wind passes, they all sigh the requiem over the 
long-lost laugh and shout of the once happy children 
who played and prattled beneath their shadows, like 
the sweet bird-songs in their boughs. The old gray 
rocks on the hill-side still project their moss-covered 
ledges, where the wild flowers grew with sweet per- 
fume, and where the glad shout of the children’s “hide- 
and-go-seek” mingled with the bird music. 

This was where Grandpa was wont to pray in the 
rocks at eventide. His low trembling voice was often 
mingled with the evening song of the whip-poorwill. 


38 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


He prayed, ‘‘Father, thy will be done, not my poor 
will.’’ The bird said, “Poor-will my poor-will — whip 
poor-will.’^ God heard the voice of man and bird. For 
not even the bird may fall without the Father’s notice. 

The holy quiet and peace that reigned about this 
old plantation was all shot away in a single day. The 
very rocks that once echoed with the voice and music 
of child and bird, that once re-echoed with the prayer 
of the peaceful thanksgiving heart, are now riven with 
the thundering crashing of cannon shot and shell, 
splashed with the blood of many good-meaning but 
mistaken men. Sword and fire swept out of this old 
home all the music and song, leaving only a few broken 
hearts to tell the tale of woe. Wait, don’t go yet, look 
again into the old home before the crash came. The 
good old wife, the mistress of the household, a sweet- 
faced old German lady, whose face had been the sun- 
shine of the home for more than a quarter of a century 
in and out of doors. She hobbled about the place on 
crutches; her word was law, and always administered 
in love and kindness. Her children loved her, but the 
black people worshipped her. In the absence of the 
old master the old grandma, “de ole missus,” would 
call them around her on the long porch and read to 
them “outen de wud ob’ God” and offer prayer, pray- 
ing earnestly for every one, “that we may all meet in 
the glory world when the work is all done.” 

A more sublime scene was not often witnessed in 
those days when thirty or forty black people of all ages 
and sizes would devoutly kneel upon the ground before 
the old white-haired matron, many of them not know- 
ing which they worshipped the more, “De ole missus or 
de Laud-o-mity. ” 

When the prayer ended, then a little talk, with a 
song, “Rock of Ages,” and the meeting would close 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


39 


with an all-ronnd ‘^amen.” Those people were truly 
honest in their fidelity to their mistress, and would 
have given their lives for her if need be. With faces 
wreathed in smiles of perfect contentment, they would 
turn to their work, determined each to give his or her 
best effort to accomplish the most, that gave the best 
results in dollars and cents, unequaled by the old 
regime of slave-driver with scourge and whip. 

We have often wondered why this subtle secret of 
power to get the best and most profit out of slave labor 
was never, discovered by the typical overseer for slave 
holders ! Had slavery been like this in all the South, 
it had been many years yet, ere the booming of the 
great guns had rent the rocks of human slavery in the 
American Republic. But, alas ! The wail had gone up 
from the auction block, and the whipping-post and cot- 
ton field. The swamp and cane’hreak had broken out 
in a great cry, mingled with the angry growl of the 
ferocious bloodhound. That wail of woe had gone up 
and up, until it had ascended the eternal hill of the 
Almighty God of Justice. The decree of an awful 
judgment had gone forth to the American people. 
“Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord of 
Hosts.’’ 

Then came the chariot wheels of war rumbling 
through the land. The artillery and enginery of death 
was turned loose in the fairest land beneath the sunlit 
skies. The reverberations shook the commonwealth 
from sea to sea. The shouts of the victors, and the 
groaning of the defeated rent the very heavens. But 
when the storm was over, and the skies were clear, a 
nation had been born anew. 

While the thunder was still rolling, and the fire was 
flashing, a great prophet had arisen, and said, “This 


40 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


nation shall have a new birth of freedom.’^ But the 
cost cannot he known. 

Grandpa Brown was unrelenting in his Southern 
sentiment; he was Southern to the core. He believed 
in a great Southern Confederacy, to gain Southern in- 
dependence; he thought and said, “This coming war 
is ordained of God, to be the instrument in His hands 
of freeing the South from the bondage of Northern 
tyranny. Slavery was also ordained of God; it is a 
divine institution sanctioned by divine writ, therefore 
the most natural thing in the world. God created it 
for man’s happiness.” So believed thousands and 
thousands of these poor misguided people all over our 
beautiful Southland. 

Honest? Yes, just as honest as were those other 
thousands who left their Northern homes under the 
flag of the Union, to subdue the great Southern re- 
bellion. There had been a little battle out on the road 
leading to Knoxville, Tenn., between the Confederates 
and Captain Brown’s Company of Union Home Guards, 
in which, as usual, the latter had the best of the fight. 
The Guards, however, retreated to renew the fight 
under more favorable circumstances, thereby taking 
the enemy by flank movement and getting another 
chance at them before they could get out of the neigh- 
borhood. These conflicts were common at this time, as 
the enemy was pressing them hard, carrying out the 
mandates of the higher powers. The Unionists had no 
ammunition to waste and generally left their mark in 
every conflict. 

On this occasion, the red spots in the road indicated 
that somebody had suffered, and several horses were 
left blockading the highway. The road being lined with 
brush on either side, there was somewhat of a mix-up 
at close quarters at the first of the fight, and it was 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


41 


rather difficult to tell who was who, for the time. After 
the battle, the Home Guards were re-forming for the 
second fray. 

The Captain discovered just then that two of his 
men were missing, two of the boys, and one of them his 
own. And he knew that if they were recognized by the 
enemy their doom was sealed. To think that these of 
all others should be captured ! Each of them had been 
used as scouts in the most dangerous service, as mes- 
sengers from lodge to lodge in the secret service. It 
was not expected that they would be shown mercy at 
the hands of the enemy, as that class were reckoned as 
spies. The Union League was considered by the Con- 
federacy as a band of tories and traitors to home and 
country. According to law ( ?) these prisoners, 
(though only boys) must pay the penalty of treason. 
Captain Brown, when finding that Dick had been taken 
prisoner, became wild with frenzied grief. 

^‘I have feared because of his rashness, said he. 
‘^They will use every device to extort from him our 
secrets and plans, but you all may rest assured they 
will get nothing from him that they may profit by ; he 
will die first. But, mind you, if they murder my boy, 
it will seal my fate with them; I shall take no more 
prisoners, neither will I allow you while I am in com- 
mand. And I am with them to the very last ditch. 
Now, let us be ready for the next assault, and I want 
every man to die on the field or get back those boys 
if they are with them when they pass.” 

The enemy did not pass the way anticipated by 
Captain Brown and his waiting men; they seemed to 
be satisfied with the prizes secured, and turned in 
another direction for headquarters. In passing the 
residence of Captain Brown, they taunted the family 


42 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


with jeers of derision, shouting, “We will now stop a 
part of this children’s play!” 

This was agonizing for the mother, but she steeled 
her heart to heroically meet the worst if it came, and 
it seemed to be coming to her very rapidly. 

Miss Anna Belle Clark, Dick’s sweetheart, was also 
a witness to this unfortunate calamity, and ran over to 
comfort the mother. When the captors of the hoys 
reached their camp, there was no time lost in prelim- 
inaries; the process of court-martialing began at once, 
and proceeded to the official disposition of the boy pris- 
oners, giving each of them separate trials, the process 
of which was the sheerest mockery. They were sen- 
tenced to “hang by the neck until you are dead, and 
may God have mercy on your soul.” 

The presiding officers said, “We will make examples 
of you to others of your kind. ’ ’ And to Dick, he said, 
“Young man, your old tory father will be the next to 
follow you to the gallows.” “Well, you will pay a 
mighty big price for him, I guess, and the price on him 
is getting bigger every day; he is getting you fellers 
about three to one, you infernal cowards can kill boys, 
why don’t you kill men?” 

This retort enraged the “court” until he fairly 
yelled, “Away with this little infamous viper or I will 
shoot him like a dog.” Dick again retorted, “Yes, I 
believe you would, you are of that kind, to shoot pris- 
oners.” 

They marched them to the jail to await the fatal 
hour of execution, which was at ten o’clock on the 
morrow. The kind-hearted old Grandpa Brown, who 
lived in the country near by, having heard that one of 
these boys was his grandson, and that this poor mis- 
guided boy was to be hanged, made haste to saddle the 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


43 


big gray horse, and lost no time in getting to the town, 
to assist, if possible, in saving the boy. 

This boy’s father was the only one of a very large 
family relation who had dishonored the name by re- 
fusing to rebel with the South and go with his country. 
The name had been time-honored in the war of Inde- 
pendence, and in the defense of the Republic. The old 
family clock, reaching from floor to ceiling, standing 
in the old manor with its fretwork, still measuring 
time, was handed down from the old revolutloner of 
Lexington fame. Also the old silver-handled sword 
hanging above the mantel, coptributed its share to the 
glory of the past. As Grandpa Brown viewed it, this 
unfortunate boy had been ‘ded off” and joined the 
tories and traitors in arms against his country. Yes, 
a member of the Union League, drilled with the Home 
Guards, and a spy! He had confessed it at his trial, 
and with eyes flashing defiance, had bade them do their 
best, they could only murder him. 

“Will they hang him? Will they hang a boy?” 

Thus they reasoned among themselves, those of a 
sentimental cast of mind. “Yes! He is only a boy in 
size and age, but a man full grown in the vilest crimes 
against his country. While it is a mighty pity to have 
to execute one like him, yet the sacred cause of our 
country must be vindicated, and he will hang tomor- 
row as a fearful lesson to the rest of them.” 

CHAPTER IV. 

THE ESCAPE EKOM PKISOH. 

The cold and comfortless facts were, the brave little 
hero, the subject of a mock trial and condemned to 
death, was sifting forlorn enough behind the bars of a 
steel cage locked and bolted against all comers and 


44 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


goers, with a double guard watching. He was waiting 
the coming of to-morrow, with the sable heai'se, which 
consisted of an ox-cart drawn by a mule, for his lifeless 
remains. 

Let him speak for himself: “I am dreaming — I 
must be. No, I am not ; I am awake — but what ? Can 
it be possible that I, who have been so active and free, 
riding my little bay charger from lodge to lodge, by 
day and by night, across the valleys and over the hills 
at will, skipping from rock to rock, leading strong men 
from danger to hiding places of safety. Can it be that 
I am here in this awful place condemned to die? To 
be hung like a dog? Can it be they have captured me 
and will kill me? Die the death of a criminal? 0, 
my poor father ; this will break his heart, and my dear 
mother, what can it mean? Then there is my poor 
Anna, the blessed little girlie. Hang me like a sheep- 
killing cur 

a thousa7id times ^ no! If they kill me I will 
die like a man. If I am but a boy, I will show them I 
can die like a brave man, and a man could do no more. 
But can’t they help us? Can’t they storm the place 
and try to take us? No, they can not do that; their 
forces are not strong enough. Then, I guess I am 
doomed, yet I shall hope until the very last moment, 
and if I am to die, I will face every vile wretch of them. 
I will tell them our men will get five to one for every 
one they murder like this. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ I shall tell them how I have been eyes to hundreds 
of poor refugees fleeing from their old rotten Confed- 
eracy, and how I have set beside them in their own 
camps and counted their noses, procured their plans of 
operation, then flew to our men with them and whipped 
them in the fight. Some of them will recognize me 
and others will when I tell them where we foiled them 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


45 


and Whipped them like dogs, because I found out from 
them in their camp just the move they were going to 
make. Then let them kill me ! I am ready if it is 
God’s will!” 

Those who read this may think we had fallen upon 
strange times, when scenes like this could be enacted in 
a country boasting of her great civilization. And now 
at so great a distance from the time and place of these 
tragedies, they are at a disadvantage in their efforts 
to give credence to this story. 

But for the fact that there are hundreds of old 
soldiers, veterans of the sixties, yet living, who will 
witness to the truth of these statements, or to other 
conditions as forbidding as these, I dare not present 
these terrible pictures of things to be forgotten as soon 
as possible. But this is only one very small chapter of 
thousands of volumes of unprinted history that might 
have been written with the loyal blood of patriots 
poured out on the altar of their country as their sacri- 
fice. 

After Dick had thought the matter over after his 
manner of reasoning in his cooler moments, he said: 
“I will turn this thing all over to God. I am in His 
hands, anyhow, and there it may rest, and I will, too. ’ ’ 

After spending a little time in his cell on his knees 
in prayer, he felt more cheerful, felt that something 
might happen yet. Hungry and worn with the tension 
of the last twenty hours, he stretched himself on 
the floor of his cell and fell asleep for a few moments ; 
then there came a rustling soft and still at the grating 
of the window of his cell. He sprang to his feet and 
to the window, a big black hand glided slowly through 
where one of the bars had been displaced, so silently 
that it had nok been heard by either prisoner or the 
guards. Dick clasped the hand and held it fast. 


46 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘Say, who is this? Uncle Dan, is this you? Oh, 
Uncle Dan, can’t anybody help me?” 

“Hush yo’ mouf, hone;f, an trus de Lawd.” 

“Say, Uncle Dan, what did they do with George? 
Did they kill him ? Are they going to hang him, too ? ’ ’ 

“No, he am dead, da ’bused him. Eeekon I dun tol 
yo’ once, honey, to shet yo’ mouf an trus de Lawd. 
Duz yo’ hea’ dat now, boy? Yes, da’ punish Geoge to 
mak him tell. ’ ’ 

When the dodger of bread fell from the black hand 
to the floor, Dick said, “I don’t care to eat now, Dan; 
tell me what about things. Is there any hope for me?” 

“Well, Massa Dick, yo’ eat som’ dat con’ pone, and 
read som’ uv him, I reckon.” 

“0, Dan, is there a letter in it?” 

When the dodger was broken it contained a small 
slip of brown paper, on which was written in familiar 
hand a little message. 

“Dan, how can this be? Where is she? how could 
she have done this ? I say, Dan, where is she ? ’ ’ 

Many were the questions that came into his mind, 
but there was no solution. The paper was brown, the 
hand that brought it was black; but the hand that 
wrote the message was the fairest of the fair, and the 
most lovely to Dick. 

“But how could she have done it? — she is so young, 
only a little school-girl.” She, too, was brave and 
fearless, ready to risk everything, even her life for her 
friend and Country. The little missive read : 

“The Big House by the Jail. 

“Dear Dick: — Uncle Dan will get this to you some- 
how. I saw them capture you; I knew where they 
would put you, and I know what they will do to you if 
they can. My cousin Jo, is the jailer. He is sick and I 
am waiting on him; he is out of his head. 1 hope he 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


47 


won’t die. I found the key to your cell. Trust Uncle 
Dan. Be ready at one o ’clock. Eat the dodger and the 
paper too, for if they find me out they will kill me, 
won’t they Dick? Anyway, we will meet somewhere 
some time, won’t we, Dick? Good-bye, 

‘‘ANNA.” 

While Dick read this little note from the most un- 
expected source, it came to him, how she had taken her 
life in her hands, all to save him. Then he ate the 
note but left the bread. The big tears persisted in 
chasing each other down his cheeks despite his efforts 
to prevent them. Finally he just gave in and cried like 
a baby. This was a new experience for Dick, and he 
was ashamed of it. 

After gathering himself together again, and berat- 
ing himself for playing the baby act, he resolved to 
be manly. But even as he was forming the resolution, 
and before he was aware of it, the “baby act” was com- 
ing on again and the tears were falling to the floor in 
torrents. His heart refused to be calm. There was a 
sweet, passionate storm passing over his inner life. 

Finally the storm abated and he sat wondering 
what would happen next? He said to himself, “The 
brave do not sit down and cry, neither will I. I shall 
yet live to fight this terrible curse that is upon us. 
When such brave sweet angels of earth like her,^take 
my case in hand and risk her life as she has done, 
something will happen, and God will see that it does. 
Yes, I will live ! I will be ready by one o’clock. Won- 
der what she is going to do. Yes, by sunrise, I will be 
with the men again at old Castle Rock! Now for a 
new lease of life. I will be truer and braver after this 
for her sake.” Waiting on time, with the spectre of 
the possibilities of to-morrow on the hangman’s scaf- 
fold, was anything but restful. 


48 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


But these alternating reveries were cut short by a 
slight rattle of keys in the outer door. A soft footfall 
came closer in the dark. ‘‘Wha is yo, boy?” whis- 
pered the colored man. “Here I am, Uncle Dan, you 
blessed old fellow; don’t you know you are taking 
your life in this? You are giving your life for mine, 
that’s just what you are doing; they will shoot you for 
this as sure as you live. ’ ’ 

“Say, say, lil’ hoy, non yo’ xtra conflumgations 
now, kase I ain’t prepard ter discus nuthin’ wid yo’, 
dis aint no time ter talk no how, yo’ jes keep yo’ mouf 
shet. ” . 

‘ ‘ Dan, this is Anna ’s work, and I know it. ’ ’ 

“Well, reckon she axed me to, an I dun tol’ her if 
she cry no mo I do it, sah. If da kill dis po ole niggah, 
den da ken do no mo ; I aint no count no how, don ’t no 
nuthin, ain ’t got long ter live no how, I reckon, sah. ’ ’ 

“What is she doing, Dan?” 

“Don’ no what she doin’ dar nussen dat rebel. 
Bettah let um di, da’ put dis ole niggah ter nussin’ 
rehs, som di sho’s yo’ bon, sah. But den I’s dun gon’ 
crazy morn comon huh latly, reckon I is, sah.” Thus 
the old man talked as if to himself, while arranging the 
garb of his prisoner for his exit. 

“Say, Uncle Dan, how am I to get out of this, and 
how are you to clear yourself ? ’ ’ 

“Hain’t I dun tol yo’ two or tre tims, dat yo’ jis 
trus de Lawd an keep yo’ mouf shet; dat’s de way I 
duz.” 

“Uncle Dan, you must excuse me, — but isn’t she a 
jewel, just the sweetest and the loveliest little-little, 
dar-dar — ” 

“Dar, dat nuf oh dat, now boy, yo’ musen talk no 
mo’ ob dat fool talk; stop yo’ mouf an trus de Lawd; 
now ef yo’ don’t dis niggah he jis shet de doah, and go 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


49 


out an wash he hans oh dis whol biznes, yo’ head dat, 
boy r ’ 

‘‘Yes, 0 yes. Uncle Dan, you blessed, good, cross 
old fellow ! You are awful good, anyway, but you just 
whisper one word to Anna for me, and I will keep as 
still as a mouse; now won’t you, you good old fellow?” 

“Yeah, I reckon so. Now, boy, stop yo’ nonsense 
an be gittin’ outen dis as fas’ as yo’ kan, fo’ de Lawd 
sake, yo ’ heah me, sah ? Put yo ’ arm in dis cote, gues 
it haint no fit f o ’ yo but it do ter try de spirment wid 
any how. ’ ’ 

“What experiment, Dan, do you mean?” 

“Nevah min, honey, yo’ dis set up strait on dat 
white hoss, an if dem picket gards say halt, yo’ jis put 
on de man’s voice an hollar, ‘Shilo’ to ’em. Dat am 
de pas wud, an jingle dis sword at dem, an make dat ole 
hoss fly, run like de deble rite ober dem if da guine to 
git in yo’ way. See boy? da take yo’ fur de officer ob 
de day. Now, honey, com dis way, if da kotch yo, yo’ 
am a gonah, sah, an if da go ter hangin’ yo’ agin,* yo’ 
kan tel dem all yo ’ want to, an Uncle Dan he hang wid 
yo ’, eh ? Heah dat’, boy ? ” 

“Yes, Uncle Dan. I hope they won’t get you.” 

“Done make no difence if da duz, dis po ole niggah 
he ’bout dun soon be dade, won’t loos much time, no 
how. ’ ’ 

Thus the old man talked on as if to himself, while 
preparing the disguise for his protege. The officers, 
thinking their youthful prisoner was well secured for 
the night, locked in a steel cell, took most of the guards 
for other duties, leaving but few about the outside 
premises. Uncle Dan had carefully noted all of the 
arrangements about the premises and acted accord- 
ingly. After getting his prisoner adjusted to his new 
uniform, and properly instructed, he went out into the 


50 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


corridor, a secret door let them to the side street, thence 
into a dark alley, and up this, to King’s Street. 

“Thar! Thar! Heah dat whop'er-will ? Dat am 
Pomp, dat niggah wid de white boss, waitin fo ’ yo. Go 
ter de conah ob de fust street, den ter de alley, den.yo’ 
got dar, don yo’ say nothin ter dat niggah, he got no 
sens, yo’ jis git on dat boss an git from dis town, an 
don yo ’ nevah kum back no mo in yo ’ life, now give dis 
ole black man yo’ han,’ honey; yo’ swar ter be tru ter 
de flag, honey, an’ member ole Dan, when yo’ talks 
wid de Lawd.” 

“Yes, yes. Uncle Dan. I swear to be true to the 
flag, and Anna, too.” 

“Dar, dar, dat am nuf, yo’ don be foolin’ round 
bout dat gal. I spect I don’ se yo’ no mo! Good-bye, 
Massa Dick, an may de good God go wid yo !” 

The old man clasped the boy in his arms, and pressed 
him close to his heart for a moment, expecting to see 
him no more. 

The wise old negro had set his uncaged bird afly, 
thus laying his own life on the altar of faithful devo- 
tion as a sacriflce, but not a moment too soon, for the 
rebel authorities having heard that a stranger had ar- 
rived in town, riding a white horse, and inquired about 
the boy prisoner, became a little more vigilant, and 
sent reinforcements to guard the jail. 

In three minutes after Dan had parted with his 
young master, the guards were changed and doubled 
again. A sentinel was placed on the inside, in the cor- 
ridor, that the prisoner might be more safely secured. 
The reinforcements also brought a chain-guard for the 
outside of the .entire premises. They became very sus- 
picious after the white horse rider had inquired for the 
boy, and were determined to preserve the prize for the 
morrow. 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


51 


CHAPTER V. 

THE EMPTY CELL. 

This second guard relief met Uncle Dan coming up 
hurriedly from the jail, after setting his boy free. 

“Halt, there! Who comes there? Give the pass.’’ 

“Why, why! Dat am me, sah, is yo’ guyne ter 
shoot ? ’ ’ 

“0, come on, boys, it’s nothing but an old nigger; 
shoot him.” 

“Why, it’s Uncle Dan. No, we won’t shoot you. 
Where have you been this time-o-night, Dan?” 

“Well, sah, well, I’s jist bin to de barn down dar 
fixin’ de ole man’s hoss what jist kum in, sah.” 

“What old man, Dan, that has just come in?” 

“Reckon I don no, sah; he am jis came.” 

“What is he here for, arriving at this late hour?” 

“Reckon I don no, sah. He say he kum ter see dat 
boy prisonah, sah, what yo’ put in de jail, yo’s guine 
ter hang ter-morre. ile say de boy am de granson, 
sah.” 

“Grandson, eh? Well, did he bring a box to get 
him in?” 

“Yes, sah; no, sah; reckon not, sah; don’ no’ nuthin 
bout dat, sah.” 

‘ ‘ That ’s the. way he ’ll take him if he gets him to- 
morrow, won’t he, Dan, eh?” 

“Don’ no, massa. Yes, sah, reckon so, dis niggah 
don’ no nuthin bout dem tings, sah.” 

The officer of the day came to inquire. 

“Dan, where is the old moss-back now, whose horse 
you put away?” 

“Well, sah, he am rite up dar wha yo’ see de light in 
de winder, in dat house to de lef ob de oder house, 
Capting, sah. ’ ’ 


52 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


^‘Sergeant, take two men and arrest that old coon, 
and guard him closely until further orders, and see 
that there is no communication with him from any 
one, and we will find out what the urgent business is 
that brings him here. We will attend to his case to- 
morrow after the execution.” 

The order was promptly executed to the utter sur- 
prise and indignation of the aged sire, he having rid- 
den quite a distance in the night to plead in the behalf 
of the boy, and now finds himself beyond all hope of 
seeing the boy, and is in trouble on his own account. 

He pleaded, reasoned, threatened, and proposed to 
hire, all to no purpose. The guard was inexorable. 
But after explaining to the guard and insisting that he 
was perfectly loyal to the Confederacy, and had influ- 
ence at headquarters, and that he had friends in the 
President’s Cabinet and the officer who had arrested 
him would have trouble with the commander for such 
conduct, the sergeant of the guard thought best to ac- 
quaint the Captain with this state of affairs, lest his 
Captain might be overstepping the bounds of military 
authority. 

The Captain commanding the post ordered that he 
be brought to his office, still under guard. To this 
officer he stated his relation to the Confederacy, and 
insisting upon his loyalty to the Southern cause, and 
as a gentleman, demanded an apology for the indignity 
he had suffered at the hands of this most humble and 
sorry (?) Captain — ^who, of course, was unable to ex- 
press his most profound regret for the mistake that 
was made. 

^‘You see, my friend,” said the officer, ‘‘we are 
placed in a very critical situation, our forces are not 
strong, and we are in the very heart of a very rebellious 
section of the country. Sir, we are even at this hour 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


53 


expecting to be fired on by these Lincolnite tories, that 
are gathering in companies in the adjacent towns, and 
the officer of the day is compelled to ride through the 
picket line every two hours during the night to be as- 
sured that we are not surprised by the enemy. So, sir, 
you must expect to find us on the alert, watching every 
stranger who comes our way. Now, sir, I hope you 
may find it in your fatherly nature to pardon the ap- 
parent discourtesy received at our hand.’’ 

The old gentleman bowed low, and very politely ac- 
cepted the apology, as he said, “Sir, you will dismiss 
those guards that dog my footsteps wherever I go, will 
you not, sir?” 

“Certainly, sir. We would feel much grieved to 
cause you unnecessary inconvenience. And now, kind 
sir, will you kindly inform us, if convenient without 
embarrassment to yourself, what extraordinary duty 
calls 'you to take a ride like this, arriving at such a 
late hour of the night? It must have been of grave 
import. ’ ’ 

“Well captain, I am much encouraged in my mis- 
sion. I find you to be a Southern gentleman; when 
you understand all the circumstances, therefore, I have 
hope that you will patiently hear what I have to say 
to you.” 

“We, my good sir, will be under lasting obligations 
to you, for any good counsel or advice you may offer 
out of your long experience of handling difficult prob- 
lems. Your age and wisdom, with your loyalty to our 
cause, commands our most profound respect, sir. You 
may proceed.” 

“Then, sir, I understand, sir, you have a child, a 
mere child, sir, imprisoned and condemned to be hung. 
Is this true?” 


54 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


All former courtesies, deferences and polite con- 
ventionalities went to zero, rattling to the ground, 
like marbles on a slate roof. 

‘Hf it may please you, sir, permit me to inform you 
that if your important mission has to do with that 
case, then our interview is ended. 

“You, sir, will permit me to inform you, I am here 
on a mission of mercy. The child you are pleased to 
call your important prisoner, is but a child yet of ten- 
der age, and I am ashamed of a commanding officer, 
or a country, that sanctions the imprisonment and 
death of a small boy for any crime. 

“My dear sir, you do not certainly know the char- 
acter of the prisoner. He is, as you say, only a boy, 
but proficient in crime, and one of the most dangerous 
of the tory element because of his youth.” 

“Sir, you are mistaken in that, I know your pris- 
oner ; he is my own grandson. ’ ’ 

“Indeed, sir? Your grandson, then I am truly 
sorry for you.” 

“Yes. Your pretended politeness to me was all a 
contemptible sham; you knew he was my grandson.” 

“Very well, sir. The law must have its course. I 
cannot and dare not intervene.” 

“Then you will kill my boy? Murder my boy? 
No, by the Eternal 1 and in the name of our great Con- 
federacy, you will not! 

“No, no, sir. I will not murder your boy; he is not 
in my hands to kill, or save. He is, as I think, justly in 
the hands of the laws of our country, and you as a 
loyal citizen, should not trouble yourself about the 
proper execution of these laws made to preserve our 
country. I can not help you, sir.” 

Then the old man humbled himself and began beg- 
ging for the life of his boy. ‘ ‘ If you will only turn him 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


55 


over to me, I will pledge my honor to be responsible for 
him. I will turn him over to our side, and make him 
true to our cause. You say he is a brave lad; that I 
know, why not ? He is of the true stock, and has been 
led away, and is only mistaken. I could have him up 
and in arms for our South in three months, and we need 
a few of the kind he is, in the defense of our new Gov- 
ernment. Now, sir, ivill you turn him over to me? You 
need not release him, I will pledge my life and fortune 
for his safe keeping, sir.” 

‘‘Your argument, may seem -plausible to you; never- 
theless it is useless my dear sir to take time and mul- 
tiply words on this subject; the court has tried the 
case, passed judgment, and that is the end of the con- 
troversy. I bid you good-night.” 

‘‘Please, sir, I am an old man, and the burden will 
break my heart. You must listen to me. Just one 
more word, please.” 

“Well, now, my fl*iend, I am very sorry for you, 
but it is perfectly natural for one of your years to look 
at this matter from a sentimental standpoint. You 
must remember, however, that we are engaged in a 
great war, and mercy and sympathy are not virtues to 
be, indiscriminately exercised .for the pleading, not 
even by a grandfather for his own grandson.” 

“Please, sir, do not leave me. I will die myself be- 
fore you shall accomplish this dastardly deed.” 

“Sir! Do you know that this boy is a noted spy? 
He has been through our camps spying out every de- 
tail of the army, every post and fortificatibn, and re- 
ported the same to the tory-Lincolnites ? He must and 
will die, to-morrow, according to the sentence, and it 
is as I have said to you, needless for you to trouble 
yourself farther about the matter. You may have the 


56 


LOYE TESTED IN THE 


body after the execution, if you may care for it, and if 
not, we have arranged for all the details ourselves. ’ ’ 

‘‘0, sir! 0, sir! You will — will — ’’ 

^ ^ Good-night ! Good-nighty sir!’’ insisted the Cap- 
tain. ‘‘Guards, show this man out at the door, and — 
and sergeant, take this old crazy fool to the jail and 
keep him there until after the execution to-morrow. ’ ’ 

“Oh, this is terrible. Captain, have mercy upon me, 
don’t do that. I beg your pardon, sir, I will go and 
not trouble for a guard, just let me go free.” 

“Then go, sir, and may we not see you again.” 

The poor, old broken-hearted man got to the door, 
hesitated for a moment, but receiving the prod of a 
bayonet, went heartsick and almost out of faith with 
his beloved Confederacy. His hair seemed whiter, his 
aged form bent lower under his great burden. Out 
upon the street he was not free, as he supposed, for 
there were two guards following him to conduct him 
to the jail; but before reaching it the officers relented, 
and sent orders for his release, provided he leave the 
town at once. 

“Yes,” said he, “I will go, hoping to never see the 
town again.” 

He called for the old negro to get his horse for him. 
Finally the old negro, who seemed indifferent to pass- 
ing events, was found, and responded readily. Yes, 
yes, sah, Massa, I git yo ’ boss, sah. ’ ’ 

“I am going to leave the town forever, but not be- 
fore I make one more effort to see my boy before they 
kill him.” 

Changing his tactics, he secretly presented him- 
self to the jail guard, and asked the favor of just 
speaking a word to him privately. The guard, think- 
ing himself favored by such a request, answered, 
granting the favor. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


57 


The old man requested just a single word with the 
boy, through the grating of the window, but the 
guard inside, fearful of being seen, refused the fa- 
vor. The double guard had been removed again af- 
ter they found out the mission of the old man, think- 
ing him to be rather harmless. The old grandfather 
gained the sympathy of the guard, and asked again 
only to speak a word to the boy through the grated 
window. 

‘‘I can do no harm to just say good-bye to my little 
boy.’’ But no. He could not “even look through the 
window,” was the guard’s reply. 

He took from his pocket a gold coin, offered it to 
the guard. After hesitating, and looking carefully 
about him the guard took the coin, saying, “Don’t 
you stay in there long, the sergeant might come along.” 
The inside guard was a little more firm, but finally 
another gold eagle changed hands, and the inner gate 
opened and swung back, admitting him to the win- 
dow of the cell. 

Many other gates, though of iron, gently swing 
back on hinges of gold, whether to the rights or wrong. 

He hastened to the grated window and called, 
“Richard! 0, Dick! 0, Richard, my boy! Why 
don’t you answer me? This is grandpa. Richard! Are 
you asleep ? ” 

No answer, and again he called, but no answer. 
Then the old man exclaimed, “He is dead! Good 
Heavens! They have killed him.” 

The guard, hearing the exclamation, “He is dead!” 
ran in and tried to see through the window, then tried 
the door, which was locked. Immediately search was 
made for the key. 

They instantly put the old man out, and reported 
to the officer. That magnate came, procured the key, 


58 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


and found an empty cell. Thougli the cage of iron 
was locked, barred and bolted, the prisoner was gone, 
and none could solve the mystery. Tears of gratitude 
ran down the old man’s furrowed face, dripping off 
his white beard. 

“Thank God! Thank the good Lord! my poor lit- 
tle hoy may he saved yet. God is in this thing, I praise 
Him for his goodness.” 

Soon the whole town was astir ; a strange thing had 
happened. The jailer was sick, and in his bed, un- 
able to sit up. The keys were on the nail in his room, 
in plain view of his watchful eye, though he was very 
sick, he would allow no one to use his keys except an 
authorized officer of the guard. The jailer’s trusty 
official assistant had securely locked this especial cage, 
knowing the importance of its contents, and charged 
the little girl beside the bed of the sick man, to see 
that no one removed the keys while the master slept. 
“Yes, sir, I will certainly see to that.” (and she did.) 
It was the wonder of wonders how the prisoner could 
have gone out of the cage and left it locked. The key 
had no duplicate, and there was no one in the coun- 
try able to manufacture one. There seemed but one 
possible solution to the mystery. There must be a 
traitor in the camp. But who? and where? 

During the commotion at the jail-yard, Dan came 
jerking himself through the crowd to the old man, 
who seemed to be as much surprised as any one, at 
the escape of the prisoner, but was not sorry by any 
means. 

Dan exclaimed, “Massa, Massa Brown! sho’s yo’ 
bon’ dat boss am dun gon. Yes sah, an — an — de sad- 
dle, he am dun’ gon’ too. An de Lawd, he ony’ no 
wha’ da’ am gon, sah.” 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


59 


‘‘Well, well, Dan! Have they stolen my horse?” 

“Yes, sah. — No sah, rekon dis niggah do’n no nuth* 
in bout dat. Rekon de hoss am dun gon, how-sum- 
eveah.” 

Just at this stage of the game, there dawned upon 
the old man’s mind a new idea, after putting things 
together. 

The officer of the day rode up to inform them 
that it was not he who rode out through the picket 
lines after mid-night, on the gray horse, as the pickets 
had reported. So there was a very bad mistake some- 
where, somebody had blundered. The Post Command- 
er came in answer to the urgent summons of his in- 
ferior officers. 

His face was white with alarm and disappointment, 
and then when talking, would flush with impotent rage 
as he learned the facts. Despite his very careful 
management and diligence to safely guard this pris- 
oner. 

The “mere boy” had outwitted him, and gone 
free. 

He must now recall his boasting telegrams to head- 
quarters of his skill in capturing “a very important 
spy and would promptly execute him to-morrow.” 

He ordered the guards all put under arrest, and 
everybody else connected with the jail. 

CHAPTER VI. 

GEANDPA IN JAIL. 

The “new idea” entering the old man’s mind, was 
that the white horse and the rider, going out past the 
pickets as officer of the day, had something to do with 
his boy’s escape, and was overjoyed at the thought. 
While he was thus cogitating, the officer of the day had 


60 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


suggested something of the same idea to the Captain of 
the post. The old gentleman looked about him for a 
moment, then at the old negro and said: 

‘‘Well, I reckon I had better be going. I guess it 
is as mother says, ‘All things work together for good 
to them that love God.’ Dan, if the rascal who stole 
my horse returns him, let me know, and I will give you 
a dollar.” 

“Yes, yes, reckon I will when dat boss turns up, 
sail.” 

“Good-bye, Dan. Good-day, gentlemen, I am — ” 

“Hold on, old man, not so fast, we may need your 
assistance yet in catching the traitor in our camp. Some 
things don’t look well in your direction. Just at this 
period of this infernal conspiracy, you were interested 
in the prisoner, you were prowling about the jail last 
night, when we trusted you to leave the town, and you 
promised to do it, and the guards who are arrested have 
confessed to having received a bribe in gold eagles 
from you, and it farther appears that the prisoner rode 
out through the picket line on a white horse, and your 
horse is gone. I want to tell you now, if we find you in 
this conspiracy to free that boy (as it now appears that 
we will) I shall give you a very brief hearing, and have 
you hung without ceremony.” 

The old gentleman was dumbfounded at this array 
of evidence against him, pointing him out as a traitor 
and conspirator. While he was conscious of his inno- 
cence, yet it seemed impossible for him to prove it. 
When asked what he had to say for himself, he only 
manifested great confusion, and could not force his 
voice above a whisper. His confusion was evidence to 
his accusers of his guilt. This threw the commander 
into a great rage. As he farther addressed the aged 


61 


FIRES OF, THE SIXTIES 

and trembling man, be acted as if be wonld sboot birn 
then without a trial. 

‘‘You, sir, came to us with great dignity, proclaim- 
ing your loyalty while you are a veritable traitor ! Sir, 
you have deceived us! We took you for a sentimental 
old fool, and you should have been arrested on the 
spot, and chained to these bars, but rather we gave you 
your liberty, because of your pitiable infirmity, and 
this is the way you reward us. I am now convinced 
that you and these infernal black niggers are mixed 
up in this unholy alliance with the very devil to de- 
ceive us, and if possible, betray us to the enemy. Away 
with you, sir. Sergeant, take this old traitor away 
from me before I kill him. Lock him in the cell where 
the spy was, lock and bolt it fast. Feed him only bread 
and water until we investigate his case, and if found 
guilty, we will hang him on the scaffold arranged for 
the other spy.” 

Despite the denials and protestations of his inno- 
cence by the aged sire, he was locked and chained in 
the empty cell. The jailer was severely handled, but 
without avail, as to the mysterious escape ; the girl said 
he was out of his head at times, knew nothing of the 
matter at all. 

Anna was asked if there had been a stranger about 
the house during the night, but she had seen none, and 
the keys had not been out of their usual place at any 
time by any one outside. The jailer witnessed to this 
fact, which did not mean very much. If they had 
known his real condition during a part of the night they 
might have arrived at other conclusions. 

Uncle Dan was arrested and taken before the Cap- 
tain, and put through aC rigid examination, but seemed 
to know nothing. The old white prisoner was brought 
before the Captain, bound with chains, his trembling 


62 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


voice in protest mingled weirdly with the clanking of 
his chains while toiling on toward the Captain’s quar- 
ters. 

“Now, my aged friend, we expect you to reveal 
this plot; we know you are guilty, and if you refuse, 
and we prove your guilt, we will execute you at once, 
and shoot every nigger in this town. Now, sir, give us 
the truth, with no equivocations.” 

The old gentleman continued his declaration of in- 
nocence. He acknowledged going to the jail and brib- 
ing the guards just to speak a word of comfort to the 
boy, hut knew nothing of a conspiracy to liberate the 
prisoner. Everything to him was a profound mystery, 
and yet he could not hide the fact that he was glad the 
hoy had escaped, which made it all the harder for, him. 
He was relieved of the chains, and returned to the 
prison, to await further investigation. In the after- 
noon, when Lieutenant Gammon was preparing to go 
on duty, he found his sword and dress suit gone. 

“Pomp,” his colored valet, was called before him. 
This colored servant was a great overgrown, half- 
witted, wall-eyed negro, dumb as an oyster, when it 
suited him. His face seemed to be a cross between a 
calf and a baboon; his feet were large and ill-shaped, 
while his legs and arms were long, out of all propor- 
tion to that of his body. He doubtless had never found 
a test of his physical strength. The negroes of the 
town held him in great fear, estimating him as part 
man, beast and devil. When brought before the court 
(?) he knew nothing of the officer’s sword or suit. 

“When I bresh dem tings da’ wa’ dar on de’ peg, 
spect date gote got eted wid de bil-gote, he am mity 
bad on dem fine tings when he fin’ em lien round luse.” 

“You black beast, you know you are lying to me, 
you are the thief.’’ 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


63 


^‘Yes, sah, rekon I is, I got lots company.’^ 

The irate officer slapped his face and kicked him. 
Pomp fell to the floor in a flt; the officer dragged him 
to the door and kicked him out. The negro was sham- 
ming, he could have whipped four such semblences of 
men like the little officer, but had he resented, they 
would have shot him full of lead. 

This last discovery of the missing dress suit con- 
firmed them in the fact that the prisoner was not in the 
town, and that it was he who rode through the lines 
on the white horse. They also thought the town was 
full of traitors. Dan, Pomp and the aged gentleman 
soon found themselves confronted with an officer with 
chains and handcuffs for each of them. They were 
shackled together with iron, double-guarded. The 
jailer was placed under arrest and guarded by a sen- 
tinel standing at the door of his bedroom, as if the 
poor sick man, unable to fight or run, was likely to get 
away. 

There is one other person upon whom there is no 
suspicion, and yet she is the most uneasy and miser- 
able. Poor Anna! What could she do? She had 
saved one and brought three others to grief. She re- 
solved to abide farther developments. She was aware 
that they would find her relation to the escaped pris- 
oner in some way very soon and suspect her of com- 
plicity in the plot, therefore, she dared not wait long 
on developments. Uncle Dan was ill at ease as to 
Pomp; he well knew there was coming a severe test. 
He had no fear of the old white man, he had nothing 
to tell, he knew nothing. At the first opportunity Dan 
whispered to Pomp: “Pomp, will yo’ tell?” 

The answer came full and firm. “No, sah, Unk Dan. 
Dis niggah nevah tel nuthin, no, no, nevah; he nevah 
node nuthin fur rite smart bit, an if da kill me, sah, I 


64 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


die in dat fath. Da kan’t git nutkin from me. I die 
fust.’’ 

‘‘De Lawd bless yo’, Pomp. Trus in de’ Lawd an 
keep yo’ mouf shet.” 

“Yes, I duz de bes’ I ken, but de Lawd is mity fur 
off dese days. Dem rebs kill yo’ Unke Dan, sho’s yo’ 
bon.” 

“Yes, Pompie, da kil dis po’ ole blak man, but da 
don’ cheet me much; I’s redy any how, when de’ Lawd 
is willin ’. ’ ’ 

“What are you niggers talking about? What have 
you done ? Do you know anything about this mysteri- 
ous affair of the boy? If so, what is it? Have you 
niggers brought this humiliation to me? that I have to 
be chained like a dog to a lot of contemptible niggers ? ’ ’ 
said the old man. 

Notwithstanding the fact, that the “contemptible 
niggers” might be his best benefactors, his race preju- 
dice could easily get the better of his good sense. 

“Massa Brown, I reckon de same chain dat bin 
yo’ bin’ us, an’ we is sorry, too, des am quar times dat 
put de niggah an de’ white man in de same jail toged- 
dah wid de same cuffs on de ban’s. Massa, yo’ mem- 
ber dis am yo’ govment yo’ lov, sah. Yo’ boy’s fite 
fur it, an de pap he in de’ jail wid niggahs, yes, sah, 
chained wid niggahs, in he own jail, sah. Yes, sah, dat 
am yo’ govment, an da say da’ pull yo’ neck. Yes, sah, 
dat what da’ say; spek yo’ like yo’ Confedecy what 
chain yo ’ wid black niggahs, sah. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ 0, shut up, and tell me what you were talking 
about.” 

“Well, Massa, we talk dat ober when we git ter 
hebben, we git dar bout ter-morro, sah, an put on de 
white robes up dar, sah.” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


65 


The day following the escape was full of excite- 
ment ; the commander and his counselors were dis- 
mayed at the failure to uncover the conspiracy. Their 
humiliation was boundless, at the thought of being 
outgeneraled by a boy of sixteen or seventeen years of 
age. There was great anxiety at “the big house by the 
jail.” To Jo, the jailer, all was like a dream. He was 
trying to find out all he could, trying to get things un- 
tangled. He questioned Anna, who seemed rather re- 
ticent in talking with him of the matter. She thought 
at times she detected in the eye of her cousin an un- 
spoken interrogation that might bode ill for her. She 
resolved to wait no longer. And there seemed to her a 
voice saying to her from the great outside, “Anna, fly; 
Anna, fly. ’ ’ And then there was no need for her there. 
Joe was no longer the jailkeeper, and the keys were in 
the pocket of the commander. She was unable to assist 
her friends now in the jail by remaining. When night 
came she felt the friendly embrace of the dark, and 
resolved to escape if possible. 

. With the little basket of dainties “for the sick woman 
over the hill,” she passed the first sentinel easily, but 
farther on the next guard had instructions to let no 
one pass ; but she at last persuaded him with her inno- 
cent smiling assurances not to care for her going just 
over the hill yonder to the next house to the sick lady, 
with her basket of “goodies” for the poor woman, and 
directly when she came back to be mighty careful and 
not shoot her for a Yankee. 

“Well, now, sis, I don’t know what to do; this is 
agin orders, and maybe I oughten to do it, but you must 
hurry back before the officer of the guard comes along, 
or he’ll give me fits fur lettin’ you pass out, you know.” 

“Thank you, very much, good man, but be very 
careful and don’t shoot me when I come back.” 


66 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


CHAPTER VH. 

OLD CASTLE KOCK. 

^‘Castle Rock” was a veritable fortress, with a ca- 
pacity for holding a large body of men, though the 
entrance was small. Here, in this cave, the Union 
League held their meetings after they had been driven 
to secret places for holding their sessions. It was a 
general meeting place for counsel. It was on the side 
of a hill, and not high up in the mountains. The 
entrance was overgrown with brush and vines; any 
one passing on the road below would not notice or sus- 
pect such a freak of nature in the rocks on the hill. 
All the Union refugees knew of the location of Castle 
Rock. Many of them had found food, rest and safety 
there. 

After his escape from the jail, Dick thought of the 
men likely gathered there, and as he mounted his white 
charger, said, “Now, my good horsey, Castle Rock, or 
death in the effort. They shall never retake me alive. ’ ’ 

The old negro had handed him a good revolver 
when he bade him good-bye in the town, as he said 
“Massa Dick, yo’ know what ter do wid dis ting.’’ 

Dick held it in his hand as he charged through the 
picket line, ready for instant use, in case he should be 
challenged, but his horse being the same color of that 
of the officer of the day, then on duty, and as he gave 
the pass-word correctly, there was no challenge. After 
getting out of range, or danger of the enemy, he 
brought the horse down to a walk,' then took a long 
breath of relief. Then he most devoutly offered a 
prayer of thanksgiving for his remakable deliverance. 
Then the thought of his friends in trouble came to him. 
He knew those faithful negroes, who took their lives 
in their hands for him, would be in great danger. “And 




FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


67 


what about Anna?’’ He gathered up the bridle reins 
and hurried on briskly. Arrivng at his home, and 
after greeting a very happy and surprised mother, 
he left the horse and pushed on a-foot for Castle Rock. 

After Anna left the picket guard, and passed out 
of sight, as she had said, “Just over the hill,” she drop- 
ped the basket, and now free, flew like a wild bird, 
leaving the guard waiting for her to return before the 
sergeant came. The guard very soon realized his blun- 
der, and realized it more when the sergeant came with 
an additional guard, and special orders to be on the 
lookout for any one who might desire to pass out, and 
arrest them and hold them until farther orders. These 
orders came from the Captain, who had again visited 
the jail residence, and ascertained that there was a 
girl there who was suspected as being implicated in 
the plot that released the prisoner, and that she was 
not to be found, and was doubtless in hiding some- 
where about the town. And as she might attempt to 
pass through the lines, he would hold every man 
strictly to an account for his conduct on his post of 
duty, under severe penalty. 

Anna continued on with her mission of hope, 
toward her friends. She was seriously 'troubled for 
her friends whom she had caused to be jailed. If 
she could only reach Castle Rock in time, she might 
get relief for them in some way, before it would be 
too late. 

She was out in the great forest, alone in the dark. 
She knew the way, but had many difficulties to over- 
come, climbing over the rocks. After sitting on a log 
resting until the full light of the coming day, then on 
and on, sometimes running and pushing her way 
through the brush, until just under the Castle en- 
trance. Then she halted, took a general survey of the 


68 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


surroundings and quickly disappeared under the over- 
hanging rock, passing through the entrance to the 
first watchman, who knew her and bade her pass. She 
was not a stranger to the place. She had piloted peo- 
ple, and delivered food and messages 'here many times 
before this. 

She ran swiftly on tip-toe to the council room, where 
the men were all gathered about Dick, listening to his 
wonderful' story of his escape. Dick was standing in 
the center of the court, with a crowd of his friends 
and admirers around him, eloquently narrating his 
wonderful experiences, and was just reaching the cli- 
max in his peroration upon the part that Anna had 
taken in his escape from “a dog’s death,” when his 
eyes fell upon her. She was then at the outer edge 
of the crowd. 

He stopped instantly, his eyes grew larger. The 
flush left his cheek; he stood for a moment in silent 
wonder and amazement, then exclaimed, as he rushed 
toward her with extended arms, “Here she is now, this 
very minute — she saved my life. She saved me from 
hanging. 0, God bless her little heart! You darling 
little sweet-heart, how did you get away from them? 
You saved me, how in the world did you do it?” 

He gathered her in his arms and kissed her, while 
the tears ran down the cheeks of each of them. Re- 
leasing her, and standing before her with his hands 
on her shoulders, as he looked down into her sweet 
flushed face, he said, “Anna, you are more beautiful 
than ever.” 

Her eyes, though full of tears, seemed dancing with 
merriment, as she replied, “Dick, you seem a little 
excited, give me a chance, and I will answer some of 
your questions. ’ ’ 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


69 


His heart got the better of him again and he clasp- 
ed her to his breast, and kissed her again, as he cried, 
“You lovely, sweet girl, you saved my life, bless your 
heart. ’ ’ 

The men had turned away from them, wiping their 
eyes and looking at nothing in particular, only won- 
dering what would be the next thing on the program. 
No one had anything to say, or do at that time, except 
an occasional glance at the “actors.’^ 

The next instant as Dick realized his surroundings, 
seeing that all eyes were now glancing in his direction, 
he very deliberately walked away a few steps and sat 
down on a stone, looking only as an awkward boy 
can, when it suddenly dawns upon him that he has 
done the wrong thing. But Dick, as he settled him- 
self on the rock, arose to the full stature of a man 
when he said, nodding his head significantly, “I 
don ’t care what you think, or say. She saved my life, 
and is the best girl in this world, so she is.’’ 

And to add to his embarrassment, he had not noted 
the presence of his father until this last speech, but 
the father only smiled at Dick, saying, “God bless the 
children. He is using them to carry out his divine pur- 
poses. ” 

These strong steel hearted men had many tears of 
joy to clear away before they could proceed to busi- 
ness again. Then Dick was called upon to finish his 
speech, that had been demolished completely, by the 
advent of the girl. But his speech had to remain un- 
finished. He only replied, “Well, I got away from 
them, and they didn’t hang me.” But Anna had some- 
thing to say to them. In few words, mixed with tears 
and sobs, she told them of her troubles, and that of her 
friends. Her black friends were very dear to her, 
since they had risked their lives to help her, and were 


70 i LOVE TESTED IN THE 

in serious trouble on her account. 

She had intended to return to Jo, and try to save 
those poor black people if she could. They all knew 
that for her to return, would be to go into the hands 
of the enemy, who were now searching for her, and 
would result in her imprisonment as a party to the 
plot. The extraordinary rage of the defeated enemy 
would know no bounds. She was grieved that she was 
not permitted to return to the house of the jailer. She 
seemed perfectly unconscious of personal danger. 
These men knew, they must, if possible, keep her from 
the hands of their foe, therefore had to forbid her 
returning. 

During her recital of her troubles, and those of the 
black people, Dick walked back and forth, acting like 
a chained tiger. The roses seemed to have left his 
beautiful face, which was white with rage, his black 
eyes flashed the fire that burned in his very soul. 

He had cast off the garb of disguise, the official 
coat, and cumbersome sword, and spat on them as he 
cast them away, saying, “I hope to never need that 
stuff again.” 

He gathered up his faithful gun, buckled about his 
waist the brace of seven shooters, and fairly shouted, 

^‘Men, come! 0, come on, let us save our friends 
before it is too late 1 I know they will be murdered. 

He refused every warning voice, words fell on his 
ears as if he were deaf. But the voice of Anna, as she 
stepped before him as he pushed his way out, saying, 
^‘No, no, Dick. Now we must listen to reason. I had 
to, and you shall, too ! To go there and foolishly give 
your life for them, saves nobody, and then we can’t 
afford so great a loss.” She leaned over and whis- 
pered, “If you go, I go too.” This last seemed to 
have the desired effect. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


71 


‘^Are you going to stand here and prate, until they 
are hanged?” 

‘‘Say, Mister Dick Brown, do you s’pose we’re 
goin’ to gin our lives for a couple o’ niggers?” This 
last speech came from a little weazeped-faced fellow 
who was with the crowd, hut had hut little to say, and 
wasn’t considered very much on the giving, when there 
were probable life exchanges. 

This speech stirred the fire afresh in the heart of 
this young nobleman, his hot blood surged through 
every vein. He arose immediately, and grasped his 
gun, as if to use it. 

“Yes, yes, some of the blackest, cowardly niggers 
I have known are wrapped up in white skins. 

“Say, young feller, I reckon yer are a rite smart 
uv a fighter but I an’t afered of ye.” 

Dick again started for the door, but Anna crossed 
over and cut off his exit, whispering to him again and 
turning him back to the council. 

“Wait, Dick. We will yet save Uncle Dan. Wait 
for the men. I am going to help save our friends. See ! 
She drew from the folds of her dress a silver mounted 
revolver, once the property of her cousin Jo, the jailer. 

The serious question with these men was, how were 
they to relieve the prisoners in the jail, who were like- 
ly to be executed. There were no reinforcements with- 
in reach of them, without having to wait too long. 
They had not sufficient forces to risk storming the 
enemy in their entrenchments,^ and if they had, the 
prisoners might be murdered as soon as the fight was 
on. 

One old man and more cool and calculating than 
the rest, arose slowly, and all were attention at once, 
for he scarcely ever spake without giving good advice. 


72 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“Men and brothers, we are face to face with a ser- 
ious problem, I know to my personal knowledge, there 
is not a' coward among you. And we are commanded 
and led by as brave a man as ever commanded a com- 
pany. This matter before us seems to be urgent. We 
cannot take them by force; we must use strategy. I 
have a plan, but to carry it out we may expect to sac- 
rifice someone. I would not be willing to do it simply 
to relieve the negroes. But you know we owe the com- 
mander of that post something. And if we can get 
him, by a reasonable sacrifice, I think we are justified 
in the effort. How many of you are with me ? ’ ’ 

They all, to a man, responded eagerly. 

Captain Brown responded, “I appreciate the kind- 
ly spirit of my men toAvard me. I too, have a plan. 
But first, will you men trust to my judgment, as to how 
far we may go, and when and Avhere Ave must stop? 
We have no men to loose in foolhardy experiments, 
neither have we any ammunition to waste. Will you 
men agree to this?” 

They all agreed to be led by the Captain absolute- 

ly- 

Again the Captain spoke, “Men, this is to me, the 
most serious undertaking that we have had. It will 
test the stuff that’s in you. How many of you will 
join with me in — if need be — in a life and death struggle 
to rescue our friends, revenge our wrongs and defend 
the flag? As many as will, stand!” 

All of them sprang to their feet at once. “Thank 
you, my good men.” Dick quickly passed over to the 
man to whom he had made the ugly speech (calling 
him a coward) and asked his pardon for his rudeness. 
"Young man, the Captain put the flag in, and the other 
things besides niggars, and I stand for that, even if 
it does include a few niggers.” 


FIEES OF THE SIXTIES 


73 


The Captain continued. “The post must be ap- 
proached on all sides at the same time, and if possible, 
decoy them out of the works, and get behind them, and 
get possession of at least a part of the fortifications, 
while they resist us in the front. We will approach 
them in the front, and make a demonstration there, as 
if to storm their works ; then we will see farther as to 
the possibility of getting in to the rear of them. Let 
every man be ready at six o’clock to-morrow morning. 
Now, men, get all the rest you can, for we will need 
your best strength and manhood for to-morrow. Cap- 
tain Campbell will have his men ready on the north side 
of the town at the same time, and charge them in the 
rear, when they come against us in front. I am giving 
you this instruction, that you may not mistake his men 
for the enemy. He will send one of his trusted men 
into their camp to-night to inform them that their 
enemy will approach them in the front. I am to send 
ten men before midnight to-night, to secrete them- 
selves near the picket post that when the firing begins 
to-morrow, they are to work their way toward the 
prison, and give the prison guards the attention neces- 
sary to prevent violence to the prisoners. You have 
your instructions, now take your rest and may God 
bless you.” 

There was but little rest for these anxious men 
during the night, ^hey spent the most of it in prepar- 
ation for the coming events of the day. The hour ar- 
rived. They started to do or die in the effort. These 
were terrible times. They were marching slowly and 
carefully. The advance guard came hack on the run 
to report: “The enemy is coming. They are coming.” 

The Captain, “Commanded every man to the brush 
beside the road, and let them pass. That is just what 


74 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


we want; it could not be better, no firing. Keep per- 
fectly still, and we will get every man of them.” 

The Home Guards were very much disappointed 
when they saw there were only twenty of them. But 
more surprised, when they saw their coveted prisoners 
riding with them in shackels of iron. Again the Cap- 
tain said, ‘‘Let them pass, and we will get every dog 
of them sure.” 

There was one who had all he could do to keep his 
gun down, and obey orders, when he saw the men go- 
ing by he wanted very mpch. But Dick was sworn to 
obey orders, and refrained from efforts to avenge the 
scourging received at his trial. 

They were not prepared to get the enemy, and save 
the prisoners. Prom the fact that the move upon the 
part of the enemy was so unexpected, knowing that 
whatever their mission might be, they would soon re- 
turn. The Captain had divined their mission, and ar- 
ranged his men concealed by the road-side to the best 
advantage, that he might save time, free the prisoners^ 
capture as many of the twenty men as possible, and 
save his own men from harm. 

He also sent a message to Captain Campbell, to 
storm the works while they were absent, and he would 
reinforce him as soon as possible. 

CHAPTER VHI. 

THE HEKOINE CAPTUKED. 

After the sudden departure of Anna, from the 
home of the jailer, when the officers found out how she 
had duped them, they at once connected her with the 
conspiracy to release the prisoner. Poor sick Joe had 
to pass under the rod again, suffering a more rigid or- 
deal than before, at the hands of the irate Captain. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


75 


This officer has ascertained the fact that the girl was 
a cousin to the jailer. But the fact that Joe had been 
very sick, and knew nothing for hours at a time, saved 
him in a degree, as it might have been during one of 
these times that the girl, or some one else, had stolen 
the key to the prison cell and released the boy. 

Now, having the conspirators rounded up to a cer- 
tainty, the old white man, Dan, Pomp, and the girl, 
they haye them all, except the girl, and she cannot be 
far away, and they will soon have her, if they have 
to go after her. 

They began with the negroes first, to compel them 
to confess. If they can extort from them their part in 
the plot, they can more easily get at the rest. Pomp 
came first. Poor Pomp knew but little when at his 
best. But now he seemed to absolutely know nothing 
about anything. They attempted to bribe him, but to 
no purpose. They stripped him from head to foot, 
lashing him furiously, and still he refused to tell them 
anything, finally refused to talk, only asked to be kill- 
ed, hung or shot, anything to die. 

They would have killed him, but the Captain sug- 
gested that they keep him alive, hoping yet to get 
something out of him. 

He was returned to the jail in a pitiable condition, 
more dead than alive. The flesh on his body was cut 
and slashed unmercifully. But for his strong physique, 
he would have died of his wounds. Uncle Dan was 
taken next. He at once invited them to shoot him, as 
he would not answer a single question; they proposed 
burning him at the stake, unless he confessed to what 
he knew. 

“Well, sah, I reckon dat am dis as short way ter 
hebben as da is. Liga went dat way, didn’t tink dat 


76 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


de Lawd wud let a po’ ole niggali go dat way too. 
Yo’ kan sat yo’ fire when yo’s redy, I’s redy now.’’ 

He became sullen, and refused to talk, only to defy 
them to do their worst. They intended to torture him 
to death, or force his confession. They desired to get, 
if possible, what he knew as to the part taken by the 
others. They returned him to the jail, unharmed, ex- 
cept a kick given him by a dastardly coward, who was 
to see him safely back to the prison. He was assured 
that he would be hung, shot or burned, if he refused 
to reveal the secret he held from them. He only re- 
torted with, ‘‘When yo’s redy I is, an yo’ kant do it 
too soon, fo’ dis ol’ niggah am redy. Vs ben spectin 
dis fo’ som time. Yas, sah, reckon* I has, sah.” 

Then they took the old white man before the 
court (?) and after very many fruitless efforts of var- 
ious kinds, they were totally discouraged, for no one 
seemed to know anything, if they did, they refused to 
reveal it. The aged man acknowledged that his horse 
was used, but without his knowledge or consent; he 
also confessed his pleasure in the fact that the bo^ 
had escaped execution. But his continued denials only 
confirmed them in his guilt. So sure were they, that 
they intended to resort to rigid measures later on. 
His rage and indignation seemed boundless. He ex- 
pressed doubts as to things, once so well known to him. 
The cause of the Confederate States did not seem so 
holy and divine as before, or at least its management 
did not appeal to him as being what it should be. He 
could prove his unfeigned loyalty to the Southern 
cause in the past. He had three sons in the Confeder- 
ate army. And all this trouble had come to him by a 
little block-headed, misguided boy. Some niggers, and 
a lot of pumkin ’-heads, calling themselves officers, who 


^ f^IRES OP THE SIXTIES 


77 


let a little boy outwit them. He continued to berate 
them as fools. 

“If our Confederacy is to depend on such fools for 
official management, I loose faith in our success, the 
Yankees will whip us. If my boys were here, Billy, 
David and George — George is an officer, but he’s got 
some sense— if they were here, I guess you little snip- 
per-snappers would change your base of operation. 
You infernal fools will sadly regret this inhuman treat- 
ment of an old man, just as loyal as you dare be. 
Now, mind you, if I live to reach the General com- 
manding this Department, you will have cause for re- 
grets. It is actually dangerous to have a lot of fools 
running around with official authority like you fel- 
lows.” 

They were beginning to doubt, as to what was best 
to do with the old man. They let him have his talk. 
He was very angry. Continuing he said further: 

“Such men as you, are liable to damage our cause, 
doing violence to the Confederacy. The only redeeming 
feature about you is the fact that you are so contempti- 
bly little, you are not likely to harm any one very 
much, except niggers, old people, women and children, 
and it seems that the children are too smart for you.” 

After Grandpap Brown had given vent to his pent 
up indignation, he suggested a plan for them. They 
listened to him patiently, and finally concluded he 
might be right. He suggested that they take him and 
the other prisoners, and find the girl, and have them all 
face to face, and perhaps they might get some clue to 
the mystery. This suggestion put them to thinking on 
a new line. They detailed twenty of their best men, 
mounted them on their best horses, the captain taking 
charge of the detail in person. The prisoners were 
taken on horses also. They were going out into a lik 


78 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


tie valley, to a small cottage home, to capture a little 
girl. It was always a mystery, why men of common 
sense would do a foolish thing like that. 

Twenty men and two officers, with four prisoners. 
They forced Joe to go with the rest. They seemed 
strangely blind — blind to all good reasoning. It might 
have been dangerous for .their whole force, to have ven- 
tured out into such a country, among a bitter enemy, 
having such superior advantages over them. 

Twenty greater fools never sat astride of twenty 
horses. They were permitted to arrive at their destin- 
ation, without molestation, by permission of their ene- 
mies, who were only waiting for a better opportunity 
to literally annihilate them. Elated with self-import- 
ance, and inflated with bad whiskey, they had lost 
their heads, putting themselves into a trap. 

Anna and her mother were very much frightened 
at first. But when Anna saw her friends in chains, she 
took in the situation at once. When Uncle Dan saw 
her, he said, ^‘De Lawd bres yo’ honey. May de good 
Lawd bres de chile. Nevah ’spected ter se yo’ no mo’ 
honey. ’ ’ 

When the girl saw the pitiable condition of Pomp, 
and the iron chains that held them together, her heart 
gave way. She could not answer their questions only 
with sobs of grief, for the calamity she had brought 
upon, or caused to come to her friends. Her heart- 
rending grief was so great that it seemed to move the 
hearts of the men. 

Uncle Dan asked permission to speak to her. This 
was granted. Then he began a tender pleading for 
the old white man, his fellow prisoner, who he said was 
innocent of any part in the matter. And if Anna could 
say a “wud fur de ole’ white man, he hain’t dun noth- 
in no how, and he’s ole’ an feeble, an been bused aw- 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


79 


ful. Me and Pomp ain’t nuthin’ but niggahs no how, 
an don’t make no difens what da dus wid us, da mos’ 
kill Pomp, an da guin ter kill him bym-by, an Ole Dan 
too — don’ make no difence no how — we’s nuthin but 
niggahs, don’t make no odds no how, let Unkle Dan 
see yo’ purty face once mo’, cher up now. Da won’t be 
no mo’ chainin an whoopin, an — an jail in heben, sisey. 
Unkle Dan, he guine ter go dar purty soon honey, now 
yo’ jis tell em what yo’ plese honey, don’t make no 
diffenc ter Pomp an me, we’s redy ter die, when da 
redy ter kill us. Da ken take des po’ lives what we 
has, if da ony spar yo’ sweet life, fom any mo’ trubel. 
Yes, darlin, tel dem dat Dan an Pomp did it, dat we 
dun gon an’ dun dat crime, dat we let dat boy outen 
dat jail, an’ now let ’em kill us, we am redy, an — an — ” 

But the old negro had reached the end of his speech, 
he broke down with the burden of his old heart, all 
crushed, as the little one refused’ to be consoled. This 
last, though, was more than the little girl could stand. 
She sprang to her feet, gathered the old black slave 
about the neck and kissed his forehead, washing his 
old black face with her tears telling him all the while, 
‘‘No, no! 0, no never, I will never do it Dan. I will 
not do so mean a thing as that, tell them you and Pomp 
did it? No, sir, I will not. They may take me if they 
will, and I will stay in their old jail, til’ they kill me, 
if they want to. You were not to blame. I did it my- 
self, and would do it again, if I could. 

This outburst of grief swept every heart. All eyes 
were filled with tears. Even the Captain walked to 
the door and looked out, and remarked: “War is a 
bard business, isn’t it, boys?” 

“Yes, hard, very hard when carried on by a pack of 
fools, consummate fools, who are outwitted by a lot of 
children.” 




80 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


This retort from the old man was overlooked in 
the excitement. The girl was still holding them with 
her beautiful pathetic charming face, as she contin- 
ued, Yes, sirs. I did the deed, and would do it again 
for Dick, if I could, and I would have gone back and 
released the others, if I could, but they wouldn’t let 
me, so I had to come home. You were going to hang 
Dick, for being loyal to his country and the flag, but 
now what? You won’t, will you? No, I hardly think 
you will. This big tall man, with the white hair, is in- 
nocent, he had Nothing to do with it, so you can let 
him go. Now please take that big heavy chain off of 
the poor old man. Please take those chains from all 
of them, don’t you see they hurt them. For shame, I 
would not treat a mean dog like that, unless I was a 
brute myself. ’ ’ 

She seemed to have a strange enchantment over 
them, they looked at her with astonishment, mingled 
with awe. She might be possessed, but whether from 
above, or below, they could not tell. They relieved 
their prisoners from the handcuffs, at her insistence. 
They did not understand her, she so young, and 'yet 
‘‘she talked so old.” 

When Uncle Dan remarked, “Don’ yo’ see, massa 
Capting, she am de angel ob God, sent down hah, ter 
set us all free?” 

Their superstition nearly got the better of them, 
they looked at each other and thought a few thing' 
to themselves. One of them said, “Captain, make th? 
old fool nigger shut up, he gives me the crawls.” I 
was not the only one, who felt something crawl? 
over him. 

Anna continued, telling them that “Uncle Dan 
not do it, nor Pomp. I did it myself. I took the 
from the nail, in cousin Joe’s room when he w 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


81 


sick he did not know it. Yes, I did that awful deed 
myself. You were going to hang him. You were? 
Well, you won’t do it, will you? Please don’t, Mr. 
Captain.” Her eyes were void of tears now, and were 
flashing the Are of her revolutionary sires. 

“I saw you take him. Why didn’t you shoot him 
in the fight? You could have. No, you wanted to tor- 
ture the poor boy, and make him suffer. No, had you 
been gentlemen in honorable warfare you would not 
have held him for torture, you dirty, cowardly dogs. 
You tortured to death the other hoy, poor George, who 
died the death of a hero ; you will pay for it some time. 
Yes, you claim you didn’t mean to kill him then, hut 
hang him, you got nothing from him. ” 

She laughed them to scorn, they stood in their as- 
tonishment and permitted her to humiliate them, while 
their little brains were ‘‘wool-gathering” with their 
superstition, wondering whether she was just a com- 
mon girl of humanity like the rest of the race. At last 
the brave (?) Captain said to her, “By whom did you 
send the keys? You said you sent them to the boy.” 

“0, you want to know that do you? Well, find 
out if you can, you want to bite some other poor one 
to death, do you? You must certainly be a hungry 
dog. I have told you all I will tell. Now do what you 
'.an to make yourself happy, for your happiness may 
ot last long, I give you warning now.” 

She had it in her power at that moment to kill 
Captain, and intended to do it, but was abiding 
time, as was revealed, afterward. 

Well, why don’t you take me, you say you came 
me?” 

e Captain ventured to ask if she would go with 
'■ ^nd that he would see that she was protected, 

■ oected. Her eyes again blazed with fire, as she 


82 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


said, Yes, you? You respect? You protect anybody? 
Dogs might, but you don’t.’’ 

^‘Then, you will go with us?” 

^^No, sir. I will not. You will have to take me.” 

‘‘Then be it as you have said; we will take you.” 

“Am I to go to jail. Sir?” 

“Yes, I think you may try the cell you opened, and 
see if you can open it again so easily.” 

Had he detected the slight movement restrained by 
an effort, he might not have been so sure of himself, 
and watched more carefully the insinuating and sar- 
castic remarks. He looked at her, as if not quite un- 
derstanding her, nor did he. 

“You are a very brave little girl, but rather harm- 
less I guess. I think we will arrange matters to let you 
have a little quiet resting spell, where no one will 
bother you for a while.” 

“You will look well to that. Captain, of course. 
But you may go to rest first, and I doubt if your plans 
are carried out as fully as you contemplate.” 

Her insinuations might have created suspicion, had 
the Captain been on the alert, but she seemed to him 
as rather a harmless, fearless little girl; it would be 
well to punish her for the crime of releasing an im" 
portant prisoner and to take her and hold her for the 
higher authorities to dispose of, would be wise. Or 
hold her as a hostage for the surrender of some im- 
portant character they might need. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE HEROINE RESCUED. 

The prisoners, being now unshackled, arrangements 
were made for them to ride on the horses on the /re- 
turn trip. j 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


83 


Anna was ordered to ride behind with Uncle Dan, 
on her own horse, which they had appropriated for 
their own use, and which proved to be fortunate in the 
results of the trip. As they were riding along, she 
whispered to Dan, telling him that she intended to kill 
that Captain before he turned the key on her in the 
jail, and that she had the jailer’s revolver in the folds 
of her dress, and that she came very near doing it 
while they were back at the house, but for the pres- 
ence of her mother. The old man tried to persuade 
her not to do it, that it would cause her certain death ; 
but she was firm, saying she could do that much for the 
cause of her country, if it , was her last effort. The 
people who had suffered at his hands would appreciate 
it, and remember her, and if the journey had ended 
as they had contemplated, there would have been one 
Captain less for the Confederacy. That is what she 
meant when she told him to get all the happiness now 
that he could, as his plans might fail him. 

Captain Brown, of the Home Guards, had ordered 
all of his men, except twenty of his best, to march to 
the front of the rebel post to make the demonstration, 
arranged for with Captain Campbell. While the select 
twenty were placed in position to capture the rebel 
escort and rescue the prisoners, and while waiting for 
their return, there was heavy firing heard in the direc- 
tion of the post; it was surmised that the battle was 
on. The roar of guns was not of long duration, indi- 
cating that there had been an easy victory, and so it 
proved to be. The enemy at the post were not pre- 
pared to receive a double charge simultaneously in 
front and rear, therefore the post fell into the hands 
of the Union men, with but a fraction of loss. 

The Captain with his prisoners became very uneasy, 
when he heard the firing out toward his headquarters. 


84 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


and urged the escort on, to a more rapid pace. Sup- 
posing that the battle at the camp had drawn the 
Union forces from the country through which he was 
passing, the Captain felt more secure from attack from 
the road-side on his journey back to camp. His alarm 
for the security of the post caused him to urge his cav- 
alcade to a more speedy march. 

A sharp turn in the road brought them into a half 
circle, under large trees, the brush by the road-side 
covered the twenty men of Captain Brown’s Company, 
who lay in waiting for them. 

Suddenly there was an awful crash, as if the fire 
of a twenty-pounder had been turned on them, as if 
the very ceiling of the skies had fallen on to them. 
The Home Guards had fired, ten of them only. Their 
Captain had instructed them, that if the first fire fail- 
ed to get the men they wanted, then the other ten were 
to fire. The first satisfied him. Seven men went down 
from their horses, others were unhorsed and took to 
the woods, several of them escaped to run into the 
victorious forces at the post. 

Anna’s horse went down with the rest, and she and 
Uncle Dan went down with it, but the horse fell from 
stumbling in his alarm, and was not hurt. Pomp sat 
upright, stock still, as the officer rolled to the ground 
from in front of him, leaving him sitting on the horse 
back of the saddle, rolling and blinking his great white 
eyes and twisting his face, finally blurted out, “De 
big white foks am a kumin’ down sho’s yo’ bon.’ ” 

Anna was found to be safe and unhurt, leaning her 
head upon the breast of the one she had delivered from 
the jail, who in turn, had just rescued her from this 
same enemy. There was no reserve, or embarrassment 
this time. It seemed the most appropriate thing to do. 
y^hj not pillow her head over the heart that was to 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


85 


her the truest and the best in all the world. The con- 
versation between them was for only two. Later, she 
said to him, ‘^Well, Dick, I guess we are about even 
now. You saved me, and I helped to save you; but you 
did more for me than I did for you; you don’t know 
what you did for me yet. You saved me from murder, 
from doing an awful thing, and I am so glad.” 

‘‘0, do you think they would have murdered you, 
Anna ? ’ ’ 

“No, not that, and yes, they might have, but I 
mean you saved me from killing a poor man, and 0, 
I am so glad I didn’t do it.” 

“You, Anna, kill a man? You don’t look like kill- 
ing anybody.” 

“Yes, but do you see that?” taking the revolver 
from her pocket. “Well, I had resolved in my very 
heart, I would shoot every one of these balls into that 
Captain, if I could, when he atterfipted to turn me into 
that jail. Yes, and I most know I would have done 
that awful thing.” (Then as if thinking aloud to her- 
self.) “Then they would have killed me sure.” 

“You know, Dick, I have beaten you at revolver 
practice. I am not a stranger to the use of a little gun 
like that.” 

“Yes, Anna. I remember the time you shot a 
squirrel out of the top of a high tree, and then cried 
lik.e a baby, because you had killed the poor little 
thing. ’ ’ 

“Now, Dick, that isn’t nice. After this day’s work, 
Dick, I suppose we can call it square, and settle down 
to real life again.” 

“No, Anna. It will take me all my lifetime to get 
even with you and pay you the debt I owe you, and 
yet I am willing to settle down as soon as you are will- 
ing to say the word. ’ ’ 


86 


LOYE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘Now, Dick, I did not mean that, and you know 
I didn’t/’ 

“Well, this is a good time for me to tell you all 
that there is in my heart, and I will. I will just tell 
you plainly, that — that, well, — ^that — ” 

“De Lawd bres de’ chillins!” cried Uncle Dan, as 
he came rushing in from some where just at the wrong 
time, but it saved answering a question that had been 
answered by each of them many times in the past, 
though not in words, but in that mysterious expression 
of the eyes, when the soul speaks through them, when 
words would seem inadequate, and only mar the sweet- 
ness bf a pure, and divine life-stream flowing quietly 
over two souls. 

“Is yo’ bof’ hea’ an livin’? De Lawd, he temper 
de wins ter de sho’n lam’s, yea, reckon he do, sah. I 
no’d dat long time. I’s ben tellin’ ’em dat dis long 
time, bres yo’s honeys. I’s ben ’quanted wid dat good 
Lawd, ni on sixty yea’s. Bress de good Lawd, chillins, 
I tell yo’ chillins dis ole niggah wuz mity shuk up. 
He loud dat de chariot of ’Liga had dun kum down 
agin fo’ dis ole black man sho’s yo’ bon’, sah. Well 
I’s jist ’bout redy ter go any how, yesah, r’kon I wuz, 
sah. ’ ’ 

“Yes, yes. Uncle Dan. The good Lord has been 
very good to all. He will take us when he is ready, 
but we will give him our very best service while we 
wait. And give him all the glory and praise, for his 
blessings to us. We will praise him together, and stay 
together in service as well.” 

“Yeah reckon so, looks lik he am guine ter keep 
som yo’ fo’ks togeddah, frum de way som tings am 
lookin bout now I reckon, sah.” 

“Well, well, never mind that now. Uncle Dan. 
.Where is that fineiooking old gentleman who rode the 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


87 


large black horse, by the side of the Captain, as you 
rode around the bend in the road. I didn’t think he 
looked like one of them, and I whispered to our men 
near me just before we fired, not to shoot him.” 

‘‘Don’ no, sah; ’spect he got killed, cans de big boss 
dat he wuz on run past us down de rode, sah.” 

“He was a fine venerable-looking gentleman, 
though I didn’t see his face, neither did I see him at 
the post, or about the jail, when they had me there as a 
prisoner. ’ ’ 

“0 yea, Massa Dick, I kno’s who yo’ mean now. 
Y-dat am yo’ Gran-pap Brown, sah.” 

“0, no. Uncle Dan. You are mistaken. That was 
not my grandfather. You see, he was one of their 
prisoners, and my grandfather is a Confederate any- 
way; then he would not have been in a company of 
men like those.” 

“Yes, sah, Massa Dick, dat am jis what he wuz, 
coz he said so his sef, sah. An — an — , da had him ’rest- 
ed fur — fur — somting, an he wuz a priznah wid me 
an Pomp, an da chained him too, sah.” 

. “ That can not be, for he is what they call a redhot 
rebel, and my uncles are in the Confederate army, so 
it must have been some one else. ’ ’ 

“Boy, de same chains dat cut des ris ob mine 
(showing the cuts on his wrists) chained yo’ gran-pap 
ter me an Pomp, sah, in de same jail wha yo’ wuz 
yo’sef, sah.” 

“Uncle Dan is right, Dick,” said' Anna. “I too 
saw him in chains, and I know he claims to be your 
grandfather. ’ ’ 

“How strange then! This is all a tangle. I can’t 
understand ; my head is all in a whirl ; I must be 
dreaming again.” 


88 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


He took up his gun, looked it over carefully, per- 
haps by force of habit. Then said : 

“Let us look around a little. What have we been 
doing? Who knows but those thieves are lurking 
around in the brush to shoot us like dogs? Where are 
the men V’ 

In a moment the fire began to blaze in his eyes, as 
before, when danger seemed near. Walking out into 
the road he said again, “Where have the men gone 
to?'^ 

“We are all here, my little Captain,” sang out a 
familiar voice. “We thought to leave youins to your- 
selves, as you seemed to be holding a council of, of — 
well what shall we call it? — it didn’t seem to be a 
council of war, rather a peaceful one I think.” 

“Pardon, my little Captain, but have you had the 
pleasure of meeting this gentleman? Your grand- 
father, I believe, sir.” 

As there was a general mixture of men and prison- 
ers, crowding him, Dick did not get the last part of the 
sentence that referred to his grandfather, and not 
seeing him, he happened to recognize others first. 

“Why, who are all of these? This man I have seen 
— he was my., guard at the jail,” addressing himself 
to a hatless prisoner. “And, and why, this is you^ 
Grandpa. Well, well ! What will— ” 

“Yes, yes, my precious, precious boy! My brave 
little lad! Poor little deluded boy, God bless you; 
now I have you at last.” 

“No, my good grandpappy, I rather think we have 
you, have we not?” They were in each others’ arms, 
each trying to talk at the same time; finally the old 
gentleman answered. 

“Yes, when I come to think of it, I guess you are 
right, it is you, who have me; yes, I am yours for the 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


89 


present any way ; and I can not say I am sorry either. 
You or your men cannot, or, I am sure, will not, treat 
me worse that my own have. Look at that, all with- 
out a cause!” (Holding out his swollen wrist, chafed 
by the chains). ‘‘But then I must be loyal, and not 
talk, I must be true to our cause, whatever may hap- 
pen. Where are your servants? The Colored boys, 
who were with us? There is one of them I desire to 
see, I think he is an e;x;cellent servant, I owe him an ex- 
pression of my gratitude. Then, Richard, there is a 
girl mixed up in this muss somewhere. Possibly you 
could enlighten me. I would be pleased to see her. 
She, sir, is a very remarkable little lady, a perfect 
heroine, a beautiful little queen, or an angel, I am not 
sure. Gentleman, she could have wrung tears from 
the rocks, when she surrendered her life for ours yon- 
der at her home. Her pleading for us was sublime, 
sirs. -I greatly desire to see her.” 

‘ ‘ This is her ladyship, your honor, ’ ’ as Anna stepped 
out from her concealment and looked up into the old 
man’s face with a bewitching smile, and a tear falling 
down her cheek. 

^ She stood before the aged white-haired sire, like 
a blooming rose before the morning dew had fallen 
from it. He slowly lifted his hat, bowed to her, then 
took her hand and lifted it to his lips. As the long 
white hair fell about her arm, one could easily fain 
the evening of the old year, kissing the bright morn- 
ing of the new. Instantly she withdrew her hand, and 
threw her arms around the old man’s neck, and kissed 
him fervently again and again. Strong hard-hearted 
men. turned their faces, and looked up into the, trees 
and rocks on the hilkside, as if there were new and 
sudden interests in rocks and hills. 


90 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


The aged grandfather wept like a little child. He 
put his arms about her as if she was his baby, and 
tenderly kissed her cheek. “My dear little maid, you 
are surely God’s little girl.” 

“How I wish Mother could see you. I think she 
could capture you, and we would never let you go from 
us. But then I am detaining you, with an old man’s 
weakness. Pardon, little one, I must say you are an 
angel. I owe you my most profound gratitude for 
what you have done for me. May God keep you safe- 
ly, keep you perfect in his love, and in your purity of 
soul. This is a hard world, my dear ; do not go back to 
where you will be subject to arrest, for those people 
whom you folks are pleased to call “the enemy” will 
yet cause you trouble for the part you have taken in 
this affair, but should you ever get into trouble, and you 
think I could help you, do not fail to call on me, and 
I will help you to the last dollar, if it should take dol- 
lars, or anything else to the extent of my power.” 

“Thank you, sir, I will remember you, and when I 
pray, I shall tell the Lord all about how good you 
are, and ask him to bless you every day of your life.” 

“Well, now! If you do, my dear, I believe he will 
do it.” 

Then he clasped the hand of Uncle Dan, Cordially, 
and said, “My friend, you are a very faithful servant' 
and you are a good man, and riiay God bless you. Let 
me advise you, don’t let those people get you; if they 
do, they will take your life.” 

The aged man seemed bewildered for a time, but as 
he turned to the company near by, he saw his son. Cap- 
tain Brown, and said, “My son, you and I seem to 
have chosen different paths, you were always a good 
boy, and I thought, a wise son; we thought you had 
grown to be a wise man. But you are the only one of 


FIEES OF THE SIXTIES 


91 


the household, who have left us in this the trial of our 
lives, and the trial of our country. I cannot under- 
stand it. You and I have discussed this question over 
many times; then the time came when we could not 
even mention it, and remain father and son, as we 
should. ’ ’ 

‘‘My son, you will pardon your old father for this 
untimely reference to this unfortunate subject. I bear 
you no ill will ; I know you are honest, and mean well. 
I cannot say I wish you success in your cause, and re- 
main' true to my honest convictions ; but I can say, 
God bless you my son, and may He lead you to the 
truth and right. 

“Now finally, my son, (as you are the officer in 
command I believe,) I am your prisoner. I request, 
sir, that our personal relations may not interfere with 
your duty, as an officer to a prisoner. Perform your 
duty, sir, as you may see it, as if we were strangers.’’ 

. “Father, my dear, good father! You are under 
wrong impressions, you are not our prisoner, we have 
just released, you from being a prisoner. Were you a 
stranger, it would be the same to us. You were the 
prisoner of our enemy, but now you are free to go 
where and when you please. The one who imprisoned 
and maltreated you, I am sure, will do it no more. He 
has gone into the presence of his God.” 

“Well, my son, the poor unfortunate man labored 
under mistake. I felt ill toward him for his treatment 
of me, but since witnessing his very great misfortune, 
I have no ill feeling against him. I hope God may for- 
give him as freely as I have.” 

A messenger arrived with a dispatch, handing it 
to the Captain. “Attention, men,” said the Captain, 
“I am called to the council, there is some work yet 
to do, as the lieutenant is absent, who will you have 


9^ 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


to take command? They answered, ‘‘Dick, lieutenant 
Dick is next in rank, now since he has been promoted. ’ ’ 

Dick had been elected by his company as second 
lieutenant the preceding night in the council, for his 
bravery under fire, and because of his wonderful es- 
cape from the enemy. This was the first opportunity 
for him to be put in command of the men. 

“Well, if this is your choice, it may be so. But he 
is very young, and there are some of you who have 
seen more service, and are better qualified for the 
place.” 

His father, and grandfather, were proud of the 
boy, and the boy thought very well of himself at the 
time. 

The Captain was off at once, answering the call 
of duty. The aged grandfather turned to the men, 
and said, “Gentlemen, as I am not your prisoner, and 
yet, if you see proper, I am at your service. My days 
are but few, now at best they have decreased rapidly 
during the last thirty-six hours. There was a time when 
I feared the Home Guards, but my fear has passed 
away, and I rather like some of you.” 

The old gentleman was upon the eve of starting 
when another dispatch came for the young Command- 
er. 

“Hold your men in readiness where you are; you 
may be needed soon. Keep the aged prisoner with 
you for his own safety; they are after him. Defend 
him, he is in danger. (Signed) Bres. of Council.” 
Lieutenant Dick gave the dispatch to the old man to 
read. He read it over the second time, handed it back 
with the remark, “The mystery deepens. Why must 
I be protected by my enemies from my friends? Then 
after all, I am your prisoner.” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


93 


The Confederate reinforcements coming to aid in 
the defense of the post had arrived too late to save the 
day for them, but they wer^ too strong for the Home 
Guards, and they were compelled to retreat, losing con- 
trol of the station. 

These new forces were on the track of the prison- 
ers, who were taken out to the home of the girl. This 
new complication of affairs involved the aged gentle- 
man again, who would be unable to prove himself in- 
nocent of the charges on file against him. Therefore, 
the order to hold, and protect him. 

Another courier arrived, and Dick was ordered to 
report with his men at Castle Rock immediately, and 
the order to protect and hold the grandfather was re- 
peated. 

‘‘Grandpa, we are ordered to report at our secret 
council, and under certain conditions, you are to go 
with us, that we may protect you from the enemies 
who will harm you if they can. ’ ^ 

“What are the conditions, son?” 

“That you pledge your word and honor, not to re- 
veal anything you may see or hear, while in our care, 
and under our protection.” 

“My dear boy, after the kindness I have received 
at the hands of these men, I would suffer the loss of 
my right arm, rather than abase myself to do such a 
thing. You need no pledge from me, I am sure I 
could not do so mean a thing.” 

‘ ‘ Then you may go upon your honor. ’ ’ 

“Your Confederate friends are planning to cap- 
ture you. They have charged you with treason. I can’t 
understand the meaning of this, but I have the second 
order to protect you in the last two hours. And we will 
do it. Grandpa, to the last man.” 


94 


LOYE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘Well, my son; there is a great misunderstanding, 
I do not know myself the meaning of it all.” 

CHAPTER X. 

GKANDFATHEE^S KELEASE. 

The morning came bright and beautiful. The men 
in Castle Rock had some misgivings as to the proprie- 
ty of keeping with them in their stronghold one of 
strong Southern sentiments.- Many were the doubtful 
suggestions during the night as to what might be the 
outcome of this unusual procedure. They had listen- 
ed during the night to the firm avowal of the old man ’s 
Southern views and before morning, there was much 
dissatisfaction manifest. 

“Sirs, I am a Southern man, my sentiments are 
with our beloved Southland, with her beautiful homes 
and her great commercial, interest. My dear boys 
are with me, except this one here with you, and if 1 
were young I would be in the field with them. Though 
I am a prisoner with you, I am true to my State and 
country in sentiment, because I believe they are right; 
though you have offered me my freedom, then rescind- 
ed your order for some mysterious reason. I have 
served time in my own prison and am ready to finish 
my time on earth, in yours, and let there be no equi- 
vocation, sirs; let me be sent there at once. I see I 
am not welcome here by all of your people.” 

“You dear old grandpa,” said Dick. “We are not 
going to send you to prison. We are going to send 
you to grandma, just as soon as you are safe from your 
rebel friends, don’t you see?” 

“You might tell us how you came to be in your own 
prison, and that by your friends, and at least by your 


FIRES OP. THE SIXTIES 


95 


own soldiers. And why you were in that crowd when 
we relieved you.’^ 

The old man gave them the history of his misfor- 
tunes at the rebel headquarters. The boy sat with 
open-eyed astonishment while the old man narrated his 
experiences with the officers and his mistreatment by 
them, at headquarters. Dick had paced back and 
forth while these revelations were being revealed to 
him, and then exclaimed: 

“ 0, it was all for me, you suffered those things, and 
it was your horse I rode out of town when I escaped 
from them.” 

“Well, my son, those appear to be the facts.” 

“I tell you he is a clipper; how he did fly! I met 
but one man that night, and he gave us all the road 
and took to the woods, wasn’t it kind of him though? 
Grandpa, you better give us that horse ; he was so gal- 
lant in our service, I think he must be quite loyal 
to our cause.” 

“My boy, I admire your praise of the horse more 
than the irony of your speech. Of course the horse is 
yours by conquest, and you can do as you like with 
him.” 

The old man manifested displeasure at Dick’s 
thoughtless speech. 

“0 grandpa, I beg a thousand pardons. Not for 
a moment did I think of what you intimate. No, no, 
the horse is yours to ride to your home, just as soon 
as it may be safe for you to go.” 

“Yes,” said the senior Captain, (coming in at that 
moment) you take your horse, father, when you de- 
sire, and you may go soon, I think.” 

The sentinel at the entrance came in and reported 
that there was a man standing over on the opposite 
hill, waving a small white flag. “5Vhat can it mean? 


96 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


How came any one to know of this place, especially an 
enemy, waving a white flag?” said the Captain. “I 
will go myself, I think this thing may need my per- 
sonal investigation.” 

The Captain found, not an enemy, but a friend, who 
was fearful of approaching the Castle, without hailing 
them first. The friend was the bearer of a message 
from the commander of the post, for Citizens Brown 
or Campbell. 

“It was passed to me by a friend of ours, pledged 
not to reveal the manner of receiving it,” said the 
messenger. 

“Humph!” ejaculated the Captain, as he received 
it, “I don’t quite like this kind of correspondence with 
the enemy; they are forever trying to set some kind 
of trap for us, with their deception. They never recog- 
nize any of the rules of honorable warfare when they 
are dealing with us. They think we are nothing but 
traitors and not worthy of honorable treatment; they 
cannot he trusted to keep any truce-agreement.” 

This was the reading of the communication: 

“Headquarters, Tennessee Kiver. 
“To Citizens Brown, or Campbell. 

Sirs: — You have in your custody, as we are in- 
formed, one aged citizen, named Brown. The same 
was accused of treason, or conspiracy, arrested and in- 
carcerated, and later captured by you, or your men. 
If he is still in your custody, will you kindly inform 
that gentleman, That upon a thorough investigation, 
we have found him not guilty of the charges preferred, 
and the authorities of the Confederate States, at this 
Post, desire to express regrets for the mistake. Our 
late Captain, doubtless did what he thought to be his 
duty, and the gentleman will pardon, if we suggest 
that in the future, we will brook no interference what- 
ever, where traitors or contemptible tories are con- 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


97 


cerned. The gentleman doubtless let his sympathy 
take precedence over his better judgment and loyalty. 

We question such loyalty, and advise that such 
men be carefully handled lest harm come to our great 
and good cause. Nevertheless, if the gentleman de- 
sires to return to his home, and remain there quietly 
in the future, I am requested to protect him from far- 
ther annoyance. 

Respectfully, 

(Signed) THOMAS PINCH, Maj. Corn’d 

Captain Brown, after reading the dispatch, said, 
^Hf I could take that little skunk of a Major by the 
nape of his neck, I would whip the very feet off of 
him against a tree. I am sure I would never waste a 
load of ammunition on him.” 

The communication was handed to the father, that 
he might read it. As he read, he seemed to bend lower 
with his burden of sorrow, so deeply was he affected, 
that tears ran down his face. Finally, as the reaction 
in his feelings was evidently burning his face with in- 
dignation, he cried, “The dirty little puppy! IVfy 
boys, if ever they meet that man will have a matter to 
settle with him on the field of honor, and I wouldn’t 
give very much for his chances of life.” 

Captain Brown was very much grieved at the treat- 
ment given his old father by the men whom his father 
had allied himself with, in espousing the cause of the 
South. After taking his father aside and talking with 
him, they returned and the old gentleman seemed more 
cheerful, and entered into the conversation of the com- 
pany more freely. 

^ Anna arrived, with baskets well filled with a liberal 
supply of provisions, assisted by several colored ser- 
vants, who were always trusted. This supplement to 
the regulation dinner was unexpected. The Captain 


98 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


remarked that she was always doing the nnlooked-for 
thing. After all were seated for the repast, the Cap- 
tain said, ‘^Father, will you ask God’s blessing before 
we eat?” The old gentleman was taken by surprise, 
hesitating hut for a moment, slowly lifted his hands, 
trembling with the tension of feeling that came over 
him at the moment, but recovering his equipoise, 
prayed, “Thou God of justice, thou who knowest onr 
hearts, we thank Thee, we praise Thee for thy bless- 
ings to us poor mortal erring creatures. We know not 
how to go out or come in; wilt thou guide us all into 
the truth, bless us in the truth and may the right pre- 
vail, though it be not according- to our will; but thy 
will be done. Amen.” 

The honest earnestness and simplicity of the old 
man seemed to relieve a kind of tension that had existed 
with a part of the company, and they ate in silence, 
though it was a splendid dinner. 

The Captain called for thirty men from his com- 
pany to join an expedition to drive a company of the 
enemy away from where they were guarding a road, 
and occupy their attention while a company of un- 
armed Union men were passing on their way to the 
Federal army, over the mountains. The old father, 
thinking he might be in their way, suggested that if 
permitted he would retire to his home, remarking that 
it appeared to him that his enemies had vanished — 
those of the North as well as those of the South. The 
Captain suggested that if he could it might be well for 
him to assure the men that he would keep sacredly the 
secrets concerning’ their location and workings, and 
anything he might have learned concerning them dur- 
ing his stay with them, and then they would be better 
satisfied. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


99 


To this he responded readily, and in a few well- 
cliosen words put every one at ease, as to what he might 
do. They gathered about him and gave him a free 
hand, bidding him God-speed on his way. The old 
man turned to the men about him, saying, ‘ ‘ Gentlemen, 
you turn the tables on me. I most earnestly thank 
you all ; you may be wrong, but you are an honest and 
a noble set of men. If I were younger, and could com- 
mand such men as you, I could whip the North in the 
next six months until they would let us have our Con- 
federacy unmolested. That is all we want, and all we 
ask. But, then, I am forgetting myself. Pardon me, 
gentlemen, I did not mean to mention that again.” 
Then turning to Dick, “Yes, my little sonnie, Charlie, 
the white horse, is your grandma’s pet, he is, a noble 
horse, a royal animal, sir, and now,” (turning to Anna) 
“since there seems to be a perfect understanding, and 
after thinking the matter over, it would give me great 
pleasure to present the horse (if conceded to be my 
privilege) to your ladyship, Miss Anna Clark, if you, 
my dear sonnie, have no objections.” (Aside). I sup‘ 
pose you are acquainted with the lady?” 

This unexpected side-shot sent these youngsters to 
gathering roses on their cheeks. Dick’s eyes were 
away on nothing particular, as they roamed out over 
the landscape, his gun suddenly needed adjusting and 
rubbing with the tail of his coat. The old man, noting 
the embarrassment, added: “Well, my boy, your 
father and you, or I, have made a very grave mistake, 
and now I believe it has been made honestly, on the 
Ij)art of each of us. If you and your people are right, 
then I and my people are wrong. May God give us to 
know the right, and we will do it.” 

“So we will, grandpa, but we do not have time for 
more of that just now; I see the men are getting 


100 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


ready for the expedition, and I want to go, but just 
wait a minute, I want to speak to the Captain.” 

After a little consultation with the commander, 
Dick returned to the grandsire to bid him good-bye. 

^‘Now, grandpa, we must part, and we may never 
meet again here, but if I am half as good as you are, 
we will meet over yonder. Give my blessed old grand- 
ma my love, and tell her I love her, I love her awful 
good; tell her not to think too hard of me; I am not a 
rebel, or a tory, as she thinks, and I intend to see her 
again, if not on earth, some sweet day in heaven, I 
hope. We will keep Charlie — or Anna will rather — for 
a while; we will not need him very long, for we are 
going where we can not take him. You will find him 
at home in the barn some morning. The Captain di- 
rected me to say, you could take the black horse with 
you ; we do not need him. He belonged to one of your 
men who rode him in the battle ; the man is dead now, 
they say. Good-bye, now ; I thank you for the interest 
you took in me, that cost you so much suffering. If I 
am the wayward boy you think me to be, I hope you 
may live to see the day when you will think better of 
me, and the cause in which we are enlisted. ’ ^ 

“Yes, yes, my boy, you are a brave little fellow. If 
I had a few regiments like you I could whip the whole 
Yankee army. Then I’d go over there on the river and 
clean out that whole bunch of Confederate leather- 
heads, that blunder at every turn they make, either 
against friend or foe.” 

“You can just leave that to us, grandpa, we will 
care for them.” 

“Dick, you must not allow them to send those col- 
ored servants back again, for if they are caught they 
will be executed without mercy.” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


101 


‘‘When they get Uncle Dan and Pomp, they will 
get us with them.” 

Then I think they are safe, my boy. Where is the 
girl? I must be off. Good-bye, little girl, you are an 
angel. I don’t see how such good people can be en- 
listed in such an unholy cause.” 

Anna held his stirrup while he mounted. He waved 
them adieu, and vanished from sight, a wiser and yet 
a more puzzled man. The terrible tension of his troubles 
during the last few days had completely broken him 
down; he was never strong again. Like thousands of 
good but mistaken men of the South, he waited on and 
on for the revelation of the mystery of their defeat, but 
dying before it came, they passed on. 

CHAPTER XI. 

ANNANS KACE FOE LIFE. 

After the departure of the old gentleman, the com- 
pany was divided into sections of thirty each, and un- 
der the command of ithe old Captain, the first section 
marched away, to be followed later by the second, 
under the command of the son, taking different routes, 
but to the same destination. Dick insisted upon mak- 
ing some arrangements for the protection of Anna while 
they were gone. But the girl refused plans or ar- 
rangements for her protection, saying she could care 
for herself; but Dick entertained many misgivings as 
to her safety as he marched away, though he waved 
back to her his happy good-bye, as if everything was 
sktisfactory. 

The day following the departure of the little army 
there rode up to the gate, in front of the home of Mrs. 
Clark, five horsemen, claiming to be Union men, seek- 
ing protection, asking where they might find the Union 


102 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


Home Guards. That good lady might have given them 
the information desired, but for the secret sign given 
her by the daughter. She then feigned to know noth- 
ing of the Home Guards, or their present location, 
which was true. They asked her if the little girl was 
her daughter, and if she could kindly show them the 
meeting place of the Home Guards, as it might be pos- 
sible that they were there at this time. The girl as- 
sented at once, and readily offered her services. The 
mother looked at the girl with amazement, but one 
look was sufficient, they understood each other. 

Anna ’s keen intuition had correctly sized up the sit- 
uation. She knew she was caught, and was going to 
play her best card. Anna assured them that she would 
gladly show them the way, if they would please give 
her time to get ready. The men looked their happi- 
ness at their easy success in capturing the girl. One of 
them remained in the house, to watch,,, and the others 
walked out around to see that she did not give them 
the slip. 

‘‘Say, Bill, this is dead easy; they told us we 
couldn T get her. ’ ^ 

“Wall, yer better not count yer chickens yit; she’s 
a mighty spry little chick, they say. Yer ’member 
what the Captain told us?” 

“Yea, but we got her now, hain’t we tho, solid and 
fast ? ’ ’ 

“Well, reckon I’d ruther wait till we turn her over 
ter the Captain at headquarters, I guess.” 

Anna stepped out from an adjoining room, sayiug 
she was ready, as soon as she could get her horse. They 
kindly suggested that she might ride behind one of 
them, on one of their horses. She thanked them, say- 
ing she preferred to ride her own horse, as he was a 
very gentle horse and she was not afraid to ride him. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


103 


Anna went to the stable, saddled her white horse, and 
while doing it, she said : 

“Ah, my good Charlie horse, you are a noble fellow 
and you must do your best for me to-day; they have 
got me, and if you fail me, I am gone. You rescued 
Dick, and you must do as much for me. I think you 
will, we will have a race, anyhow.” 

Before settling on her plans, she had looked over 
their “riding stock” and was sure her plan would 
work, barring all accidents. 

When they saw the horse she was going to ride, they 
were surprised that a mere girl dared to ride an animal 
like him. She announced her readiness to go, and 
asked them to assist her to mount first, which they 
very readily assented. She was in her saddle and with 
whip applied vigorously, was at least ten rods in the 
lead of them before they were in their saddles. The 
surprise took them so suddenly that they were for the 
time completely' non-plused. To keep the road in this 
race for life, she would have to follow the narrow lane* 
half way around a small field. This she thought was 
another place to get the advantage of them. When 
she reached the fence, she did not turn, but gave a 
lash of the whip, and Charlie scaled the fence without 
touching it. Then the pursuers saw the game, but too 
late, the bird had flown, after being so easily caught. 
The leading pursuer, on the swiftest horse, came to the 
fence, and his horse refused to take it, the next came 
but his horse f*efused also ; they threw the fence 
but by this time the girl had scaled the second fence, 
a)nd was in the main road again, making the cover of the 
hill beyond. On and up she seemed to fly, down the oth- 
er side and up to the top, where she succeeded in check- 
ing the horse. She turned and rode back to the summit ; 
her pursuers were just at the top of the first hill in plain 


104 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


view. She defiantly waved her handkerchief to them, 
for she was at a safe distance, and waiting for them to 
advance. She was reaching forward and patting the 
horse ’s neck and talking to him as if he could under- 
stand everything. He, however, manifested a spirited 
interest in the race, and seemed happy. “My good 
horsey, you are fine. I was afraid they would shoot 
you, so you couldn’t get me away. I guess the fools 
didn’t think of it in time. I wasn’t afraid they would 
shoot me. Now, if we can get them to follow us, we 
may lead them to where the Home Guards are, if they 
want to find them so very much and we will get them 
in a fix, won’t we, Charlie?” 

They saw their coveted prize as she taunted them. 
They surmised that she might he trying to lead them 
into a trap, and fearing that if she caged them their 
success might not be as favorable as her’s had been, 
they gave up the chase. She saw they feared to follow, 
and guessed the reason as truly as they had. She dared 
not to return, and not knowing just what to do gave 
the horse the rein, while she tried to think what to do 
next. 

The horse had arrived at the forks of the road where 
the main road divided, and the two halves ran at right 
and left angles. She knew all the roads, hills and val- 
leys in the country. While she hesitated, she heard 
horse’s feet on the road to the right, coming rapidly. 
Quickly she turned on to the left road and at a safe 
distance waited for them to pass. She could see them 
more easily than they could see her. “0, as I live! It 
is Dick and four of his men.” She wheeled her horse, 
and was soon within hailing distance of them. 

“Good heavens, Dick! Come quickly, there are 
five men on their horses after me, and they are just 
over that hill right now, I ran off and left them just 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


105 


before you came. Quick, Dick, and I will tell you all 
about it after this is over.” 

‘‘Where did you say they are now?” 

“Just over that hill, I told you, you will see them 
going up the other side in a few minutes ; they must be 
just over the raise, next to us. They are resting their 
horses I guess; I gave them a good race.” 

“Say, Tom, how’s your shooting irons? Are your 
revolvers in good trim for a good sure little game now ? 
We’ve got something treed, I think; it looks like pretty 
good game.” 

“Yes, sir. Captain, everything is on trigger, and I 
am, too, sir.” 

“Anna, will you let him take your horse, I know 
what he can do ? ” 

“Certainly, anything, but hurry up, I want a chance 
to laugh at those foolish dunces, but get them without 
hurting them.” 

“Tom, you take Anna’s horse, and do some going; 
take this back track to the left; when you get to the 
Atkin cabin, take the left hand road, and that will let 
you out at the corner of Mrs. Clark’s farm. Close to 
the main road there you will see that the brush is thick 
and heavy. Now, Tom, you get in there, and we will 
very likely send them to you, and when you can be 
sure of your gun, shoot the leading horse. There is 
always a leader in the race, then you will be near 
enough to get the next with your revolvers, and if you 
are good for the first two, the other three will be easy 
Ipefore they get out of your range. Now, Tom, you are 
one of our best men, don’t lose your nerve nor get ex- 
cited, or you will lose the game.” 

“Why, Captain, don’t you want me to try for the 
men ? I can get two or three of them, anyway. ’ ’ 


106 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘No, no, Tom. We don’t want to kill them when 
they are not trying to kill us. No, I want you to get 
their horses, and do as I tell you, obey orders, or I will 
do it myself. I can do it.” 

“Yes, sir, I will obey your order, sir, and the men 
are to get away, I suppose.” 

“Tom! You have never questioned my orders be- 
fore, why do you do it now? By the time you do your 
work, and do it well, we will be there to help care for 
the men, do you understand ? ” 

“Oh, yes, yes, Captain, I understand. I beg your 
pardon, sir.” 

“Well, you are a good one for a double play.” 

Tom was off instantly, eager to do his part to the 
best of his ability, when he saw through the plan. 
Soon the five horsemen were emerging from below, to- 
ward the top of the hill, on their way ' back from 
whence they came. 

“Get out of sight there, every one of you! They 
could see us if they should look back, ’ ’ commanded the 
Captain. All were soon hidden from view, and sure 
enough they stopped on the hill to look for the “bird” 
they had let loose, but after being satisfied she was not 
in sight they passed on over the hill. 

“The only thing I fear,” said the Captain, “is that 
Tom will be too late to get in his part, though Tom un- 
derstands the situation and will do it if it can be done. ’ ’ 

After waiting as long as he dared and hope for suc- 
cess, he turned to Anna, saying tenderly, “You had 
better wait here, until the thing is over with, but don’t 
try to come too soon, you might get in danger, and you 
can’t do anything to help, anyway.” 

“0, 1 guess I will be along before night some time.” 

“Now, boys, we go after them, but don’t kill, unless 
you have too. Do you understand?” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


107 


They started down the hill, then up the next, in no 
hurry until they could see the enemy, hut at the top of 
the next raise, they saw them, riding on as if in no 
great haste to report success at their headquarters. 

“Boys, if they are not in a hurry, we need not be. 
There I saw Tom ride into the brush over the hill. I 
just got a glimpse of the white horse, through those 
trees yonder. That’s good, come on now, boys; they 
are our meat, sure!” cried the Captain. They went 
charging like wild, and the enemy saw them. They 
first acted as if to stand, but changed their minds, and 
fled as fast as their horses could carry them for the 
shelter of the next hill. Tom was waiting for them. 
He received them according to the letter of his instruc- 
tions. Everything worked as planned, except that one 
horseman, escaped. He halted at the top of the next 
hill to see if his comrades were coming; but he saw 
them taken as prisoners, which seemed to satisfy him, 
and he moved on. The prisoners captured proved to 
be men drafted into the Confederate service. They 
had been of Union sentiment, until they thought the 
case hopeless; then they had surrendered to the draft 
and became Confederate soldiers. The one who escaped 
was the sergeant in charge. They confessed much sur- 
prize when they saw the lady they had been sent to 
capture as a spy. They supposed that, of course, they 
were to meet a full-grown woman, according to the his- 
tory given them of her deeds and daring. When first 
meeting her in her mother’s home before the chase, they 
thought they were being deceived by the mother, say- 
ing* this girl was her daughter, they having been in- 
formed that there was but the one daughter in the 
family. They were not sorry she escaped from them, 
the only thing that troubled them was as to the kind 
of report to make to their commander, who sent them. 


108 


LQVE TESTED IN THE 


They were now glad there would he no report to make. 

They asked permission to join Dick’s company, and 
would fight with and for him, if he would only help 
them to reach the Northern army. Captain Dick was 
slow to trust them, but finally gave them permission, 
telling them that if ever they gave him the least reason 
for thinking they were rebel spies, he would shoot them 
instantly, without trial or jury. 

“Dick, why did you and these other men come back 
before the company came?” 

“Anna, I can’t tell you. There came to me an in- 
spiration, a strange feeling that you were in distress, 
and were not safe after what had- happened at the jail. 
I talked with father about it, and found he felt the 
same as I did, and suggested that I return at once, 
lest something might happen, and you see it did hap- 
pen. All of the company will be back to-morrow.” 

One of the late prisoners remarked that he was glad 
he was sent out; also was glad something happened. 
And as he sat thinking, he finally remarked that he 
hoped to never be caught by his own men, as they 
made short work of deserters, especially if they desert 
to the enemy. 

“That’s the reason I let you fellows in,” said Cap- 
tain Dick. “I knew you would have to fight for your 
lives. We are all having to fight for our lives now, and 
we like to recruit with fellows like ourselves.” 

One answered, “There are many other men in the 
Southern army like ourselves, who would like to have 
a chance to get away.” This talkative ex-prisoner 
then continued to the Captain: “You must be mighty 
young to be a Captain; if I may not be disrespectful, 
how old are you. Captain?” 

Dick replied, “I am not old at all, but older than I 

look.” 


109 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 

The company returned from the expedition, lost 
no men, but gained a few, who, like themselves, were 
homeless and hiding from the enemy, and chose to he 
thus, rather than take up arms against their country. 
The men remained inactive for a time, hut there seemed 
to be some kind of a new move on hand. The leading 
representatives were in council often. The Union 
League was often in session. There was a general 
reorganization going on in the various counties. The 
young Captain was much. in evidence as a dispatch car- 
rier, because of his excellent character, and executive 
ability in emergencies. These meetings were of the 
delegates from lodges to council with reference to a 
general movement to stampede to the North, that they 
might reach the Northern army for safety. 

In the reorganization and arming of men. Uncle 
Dan was accepted as a member and given a gun, and a 
prouder negro never carried a gun than he. When 
Dan was being formally admitted. Pomp stood by 
patiently waiting for his turn, and when it did not 
come he was disappointed. He winked and rolled his 
great white eyes from side to side, and finally said: 

^‘What yo’ gwine ter do wid Pomp? Reckon yo’ 
take him out an kill him, he mo ’s ded, nohow. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, you can go with me. Pomp; I will take care 
of you,” said the Captain. This turned the blinking 
negro on to his head, then over and over, like a wheel 
rolling down hill ; he was strong as an ox, and a perfect 
athlete. And for the next four weeks. Pomp was ever 
by the side of his master, anticipating his wants. He 
wa^» with him in the fighting of the battles, where dan- 
ger was most to be dreaded. On two occasions, after- 
wards mentioned by the Captain, he did great work, 
actually saving the men from capture. He had no con- 
ception of fear. In the thickest of the fight he would 


110 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


roll his eyes and grin, or yell like a wild Indian. He 
conld imitate numerous voices with hideous yells in 
rapid succession, lik^ a band of charging Indians. ‘ ‘ The 
yelling nigger’’ was used more than once with telling 
effect, in deceiving the enemy into a stampede, thinking 
there was a flank movement of reinforcements, just 
coming onto them. 

The great battles of Shiloh (or Pittsburg Landing) 
had been fought down on the Tennessee River, on the 
sixth and seventh of April, in 1862, in which many 
hundreds and thousands had fallen. This great contest 
had drawn heavily upon all the Confederate forces 
around in the country of East Tennessee, and many 
went to never return. 

After this, there was quiet over the country for 
several weeks. This gave our people a little respite, 
and time to look about them. After canvassing the sit- 
uation, it was thought useless to waste more lives in 
trying to do an impossible thing. They had stood their 
grounds as long as prudence and common sense would 
suggest. They could not keep the enemy out of East 
Tennessee, as they had first thought, but were even 
now having to flee for the safety of their own lives. 
Their work was well nigh finished. They had aided 
thousands of refugees to make their way to the 
Northern army ; regiments and divisions were being en- 
listed in the North from these refugees. Tennessee 
furnished over thirty thousand for the Northern army 
before the war closed. 

While this story has to do with a small company of 
people, comparatively, there were thousands of loyal 
men and women all through East Tennessee, in like 
condition, at the time of which I write. Surrounded 
on every side, the lines being drawn a little closer every 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


111 


day, men were being bunted like wild beasts, and if 
captured, hung or shot like dogs, without law or gos- 
pel, they dared not surrender. For some of them had 
a price set on their heads, dead or alive. Their ammuni- 
tion was waning; they had been trying to make every 
shot count. The last council meeting had been held, the 
time appointed for a general stampede over the moun- 
tains to “God’s country,” and the Yankee army had 
come. The time appointed for making the start was to 
be at the same hour from every lodge, and from all 
the adjoining counties, that the enemy might not ap- 
prehend all, and that at least a part of them might 
reach the promised land. The night of the twenty- 
sixth of February, 1862, is a memorable date in the 
history of many stricken families and homes, which 
were separated and broken, never to be again gath- 
ered or built upon earth. 

CHAPTER XH. 

THE FINAL GOOD-BYE. 

That night was one to be long remembered in many 
stricken homes, the night of the twenty-sixth of Feb- 
ruary, 1862. The time appointed for starting for the 
North, to fly from the tyranny of an inveterate, merci- 
less foe, was now at hand. The good-bye greetings in 
hundreds qf little homes was to be the last on earth 
by many of them. However, they knew this quite well, 
and yet they were so true to the flag of their country, 
that| they did not shrink from the sacrifice. This kind 
of parting of dear friends was not unlike a funeral, 
with the difference that they were separating with the 
dead, while they were yet living, with only a faint hope 
that they might escape. At the residence of Mrs. Clark, 
down on the old moss-covered rock, back of the old 


112 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


spring house, just outside the garden gate, where the 
little murmuring brook winds its way quietly seaward, 
so quietly that its wavelets dim not the silvery stars 
reflected in its mirrored deep, the great giant oak of 
the centuries, with its vine-clad branches, casts its 
moonlight shadow. The whip-poor-will sang gaily on, 
notwithstanding all nature seemed mantled in the sad 
funeral* sables of night. Low and loving voices, as 
they rose and fell with the sighing of the gentle zephyrs 
that lifted them above the murmuring of the little 
brook, might be heard now and then. 

“Anna, I came into the world first, and I don’t 
remember now, but I must have' been lonesome until 
you came ; anyway,- we found each other when little 
children at play. You remember how we used to play 
housekeeping? I was the husband and you the wife. 
That was only children’s play. Then we were school- 
mates all our lives; we were in the same classes until 
you were advanced beyond me. I couldn’t keep up with 
you in the advance studies and you used to help me. 
I wondered why I couldn’t keep up with you, and now 
in the Academy you are a whole year in advance of 
me, and would have graduated had the school con- 
tinued to the end of the year. But now I fear our 
school days are over. Pardon me for this rehearsing of 
the past. But you came, not only to my life, but into 
my life, long ago, when we were children; I can’t tell 
when, but it seems you were always there. I know I 
loved you with a God-given love then, and as the years 
have gone by, it has grown stronger and sweeter, until 
now you hold my destiny in your hands, and I am going 
to ask you to decide tonight, what it shall be.” 

“Anna, it certainly seems to me, you have lived for 
me, and I am quite sure that but for you I would not 
be living to-night. Yes, I walked to the very edge of 



FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


113 


eternity, and looked in. You, my blessed little darling, 
snatched me from death’s door, and now we are to 
part. Shall I ever live to fully express my overflowing, 
heartfelt gratitude to you for saving my life? when 
no one else could reach me. And when I know you did 
it at the risk of your own sweet life — and your sacri- 
fice may not be yet ended. My very soul is stirred 
within me. Language fails. I have no words, they fail 
me when I would express my gratitude to you; yes, I 
would die for you, if necessary, to pay the debt.” 

“You need not make so much of that; I did it for 
you and for the cause of my country. I did not realize 
how much it might have meant to me at the time. I 
just wanted to save you from that awful fate; I can’t 
endure to think of it. I would do it again, and take 
the chances on my own life, if it was for you, and I 
could.” 

“Yes, you darling, I believe you would, and as it 
seems that we have lived through all these ordeals for 
each other, I can not believe we part to-night to meet 
no more, no not for a momeilt, nor will I think it. God 
made us for each other. ’ ’ 

“No, neither do I, we shall meet somewhere, some 
time, perhaps it may be up yonder beyond tho^e 
beautiful stars.” 

“There you go again, I sometimes fear I will lose 
you yet; you will go off to heaven some day, and be 
with others just like you and of your kind, and I will 
never see you again. ’ ’ 

“I would think you would come after me there, if 
you feould.” 

“Yes, I Would; I would go anywhere to get you, 
darling.” 

“You mean to see me, don’t you, Dick?” 

“Yes, Anna, and a thousand times more than that.” 


114 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“Now, Dick, I am wondering what that could be/’ 

“Are you truly wondering about that, my sweet- 
heart? Then I will tell you what it would be, if you 
will allow me a moment or two.” 

“But Dick, your time is up and they are waiting for 
you. ” 

‘ ‘ 0, just let them wait. I have waited long for this 
opportunity. It has come. And I am going away, and 
if I can’t take your sweet promise with me, I go to 
stay. I pass into a deeper shadow than when I waited 
for them to lead me to the gallows, and the thicker 
the fight the better for me, after to-night. You, sweet- 
heart, as I have told you before, hold my destiny in 
your hands. Now, darling, tell me what it shall be. 
Tell me now, for I must go.” 

“How rigid and stilted you are, Dick? You are 
not like your good old self to-night. What has come 
over you? Come, now, be natural. Your hands are 
cold. I have known what you have had in your heart 
for a long time, and I have it, too. Just the same hearl* 
feeling for you. Yes, I have known it, you couldn’t 
hide it from me when you tried to ; your eyes have told 
it to me many times. Dick, I love you, I live for you. 
Take my heart with you. When you face our enemy on 
the field of battle, and have time to think it over, Dick, 
remember lae, remember you are mine. And I want you 
to take this little token of love and loyalty” (taking 
from her bosom a little silken flag), “and carry it with 
you. I only wish I could go, too, but I will do some- 
thing to help ; I don ’t know what it will be, I have left 
it with God.” 

“Anna, you have made me the happiest boy in the 
world. I can see by the light of your beautiful eyes 
that you have spoken the truth, and our lives are one. 
Yet we are so young, I had thought to keep my secret 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


115 


from you yet a while, but you see I just had to tell 
you before I left you. I will not try to tell you how 
much I love you now. You have given me courage for 
the battle field that I have never had before.” 

“Well, Dick, if you ever lacked any of that article, 
no one has ever detected it.” 

This sacred covenant entered into by these chil- 
dren of the woodland, was sealed, again and again, 
after the manner of sealing such covenants by the 
human race since the days of Adam. But time refuses 
to wait for wooing, amid these shady rocks and rills. 
The signal sounded, and our little hero, with firm and 
steady voice said, “Good-bye, my little sweetheart.” 
He gave her a last embrace, kissed her twice, and 
walked rapidly away. He had taken the last look into 
those true eyes, unless Providence saved them to meet 
again. 

‘ ‘ Too pure and honest in ought to disguise 
The sweet soul shining through them.” 

Happy boy ! Happy girl ! Nothing but death could 
blight such love. Even then only a shadow for a little 
time. Pure love of such souls is not only for time, but 
for eternity. Unions like this are of God, and for 
eternity. 

The little Captain left a weeping child, though once 
so brave and fearless, either on foot or in the saddle. 
She fell on her face before her good Father in heaven, 
that she might get courage and strength for the ordeal. 
After her talk with God she arose from this prostra- 
tion of mind and body, saying, ‘ ‘ I will go, too, and help 
pAt down this rebellion. ’ ’ 

Little did she know how prophetic her words, or 
what the fulfillment of them would bring to her; and 
it was well she did not, as it might have changed the 


116 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


history of a wonderful life. Her enemies at the post, 
who had sent for her to be tried as a spy, had lost her. 
In fact, the most of them had not only lost interest in 
her, but in all earthly things, at the defeating battle of 
Shiloh, where they heroically fought against that fate 
that was to put them in long deep trenches, “and cover 
them over, the blue and the gray,” that third day, the 
day after the battle, when Union and Confederate 
worked side by side, hiding from view the remains 
placed on the altar of sacrifice. 

The new Southern army that took the place of the 
old seemed not to know or care for Anna’s existence, 
thus leaving her in peace and quiet for a time. This, 
however, did not bring peace and quiet to her soul. It 
had been fired with a living fire, that would not smolder 
in the ashes of the dead past. She longed for action, 
remembering that Dick was doubtless doing all he could 
for his country. She was living a life of daily expect- 
ancy, constantly watching for opportunities for ser- 
vice. Occasionally they came in a small way, as it 
seemed to her. 

Finally, one day when in the berry patch with her 
basket, she saw over on the opposite hill a white signal 
flag, which gave the sign of the League. This she an- 
swered with the sign of safety. Five hungry men came 
to her in rags. They were escaped Union men, from 
one of the upper counties. She instructed them to find 
the cave or “Castle Rock,” and there wait for farther 
developments. It is needless to say they were soon fed 
and patched, and furnished with instructions as to 
reaching the next feeding station on their journey to 
the promised land of liberty. 

More than once this little girl of the “woodland for- 
est” found opportunity to guide weary feet to the de- 
sired resting place. However, she was ill at ease, not 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


11 ? 


knowing that her personal enemies had laid down to 
rest for a long time ; but the continued quietness every- 
where about her, reassured her of her comparative 
safety. The mother was the most uneasy, lest some 
evil fate would yet snatch from her bosom her only 
baby. She had no father to lean upon, he having fallen 
in a Methodist pulpit, as he quoted his text, “Follow me 
as I follow Christ.” They laid him in the Pleasant 
Hill churchyard, where stands the little marble slab, 
with an inscription, saying to all who pass that way, 
“Follow me as I followed Christ.” 

Two hours after the last “good-bye” down by the 
old spring-house. Captain Dick, and his half hundred 
men, were grouping their way over the dangerous route 
leading them toward the “City of Refuge,” where the 
old stars and stripes float on the vernal breezes, frag- 
rant with freedom’s floral beauty. The night became 
nvercast with heavy clouds. The heavens began weep- 
ing as if in sympathy with the broken hearts left be- 
hind. But they were compelled to press on to reach a 
given point up in the mountain ranges for safety be- 
fore the light of the coming day, there to remain in 
concealment until the darkness again fell, that they 
might travel in concealment from the enemy. 

But, alas ! for their hopes ! To their surprise and 
horror, they suddenly And themselves between two 
companies of the enemy — Confederate scouts, on the 
lookout for fleeing refugees. They dare not surrender, 
and to flght against such superior forces, would be 
folly. Dick seemed cool and deliberate in giving direc- 
tions for the defense, dividing his men and placing 
thekn in the dark. 

“You all know,” he says, “what it will mean for me 
if I am captured. I will not be taken alive, and it 
will go hard with some of you if they get you; you 


118 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


know that, and we will give them the best fight they 
have ever had from so few men.” 

The enemy seemed a little slow to begin the fight for 
some reason. Finally they could hear them coming. 
They could also hear footsteps following the trail they 
had just left behind them. This appeared to be another 
body of men coming in on them from the rear. Dick 
thought of his father’s company and ran back a few 
rods, and gave the password, in a low voice and was 
answered by his father to his great joy. There was no 
time to counsel. 

The old Captain said, “Men, stand together, and do 
your best. They will expect us to run, now let us 
charge them first, and it will surprise them; they do 
not know our numbers. Come follow me ! Richard, 
you charge to the left with your men. All ready?” 

The Captain then raised his voice and shouted; 
‘ ‘ Charge ! Company A to the left ! Charge ! Company 
B to the right!” At this point, the enemy was giving 
command to charge also, not expecting to receive a 
charge, and was truly surprised. 

CHAPTER XIII. 

A MOUNTAIN TKAGEDY. 

When the two bodies came togethei^ the enemy out" 
numbered them five to one, and had been confident the 
Unionists would retreat. They were astonished when 
they received a volley from the charging forces from 
either side of the road. Every gun was fired, and then 
the revolvers were brought into play. This unexpected 
assault sent them back faster than they came. An im- 
usual commotion going on out on the right fiank, was 
at the first the cause of alarm, neither friend nor foe 
understood the commotion and storm taking place in 
the brush. 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


119 


At the onset, Pomp, the crazy nigger,” with a six- 
shooter in each hand, sprang into the brush on the 
side, and running at right angles with the enemy and 
firing into them as fast as he could, accompanying the 
firing with the most unearthly and hideous yells, more 
terrible than a band of Indians, imitating a charging 
band of them with the war-whoop to perfection. 

While he was brave, fearless and a profound mys- 
tery, even to his friends, yet in this fiank charge of his, 
he received a fright that came near beipg the death of 
him. When running, shooting and yelling, he ran into 
a large bed of sleeping wild hogs. These wild animals 
gather and construct large beds of forest leaves^ They 
are dangerous and vicious when aroused, and rather a 
ferocious propositionj- and can put up a fight with dogs 
or men that make them a dreaded foe. The negro 
had unwittingly charged into a whole nest of them, 
scattering them in every direction. They ran under 
him, knocked him down and ran over him, treating 
him with great disrespect. As soon as the first excite- 
ment was past, and they got their bearings, they 
charged him with ferocious snorting and grunting, but 
he escaped the onslaught by climbing a tree. 

His bravery after this had a limit. He feared neither 
man nor devil, but he said, ‘‘Sholy de debel he am in 
dem hogs.” The enemy was a detachment referred to 
in Chapter II of this book, who were watching the 
gateway in the mountains, northward. In this skir- 
mish they had been deceived, thinking the force op- 
posing them might be a detachment from the Yankee 
arriiy, and retreated after the first charge. Results 
might have been different had they known of the hogs 
and ‘‘nigger.” 

Captain Brown found that he had not lost a man, 
though several had been slightly wounded. The “yell- 


120 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


ing” nigger was gone; they were wondering if he had 
been captured when they heard him calling for help. 
He was up in a tree, where the hogs were still holding 
him at bay. At the appearance of the relief they scam- 
pered to the brush. ‘"0, Capting! De debel he am in 
des hogs. I los my pistols an I can’t shoot ’em, and da 
ete me if I kum down; kum hea’ quik.” 

The firing line of the enemy had no terror for Pomp ; 
he had no fear of men who could shoot and hang him, 
but ever after this night the grunt of a hog set his eyes 
to rolling, and his face to twitching. The remarkable 
strategy of the crazy nigger,” combined with the 
commotion created by the hogs, saved the company 
from a second charge by the enemy. 

The Confederates were convinced now that the 
Yankees .had ‘‘bristles and hoofs,” according to the 
down South legend, and having concluded that the 
flank movement was from a second force of which they 
had no previous knowledge, they withdrew without the 
easy victory they contemplated. Pomp ranked after 
that night as a veritable hero. 

The enemy lost several of their force, killed and 
wounded, who were left to the mercy of the mountain 
residents. Our friends had no time to care for the dead 
and wounded of their foe. They pushed on for the next 
place of rest and recuperation. It was still necessary 
for them to keep themselves concealed during the light 
of the day and travel by night. Reaching the mountain 
cove, formerly designated, and stationing the guards to 
watch, they fell down weary and footsore, to sleep and 
rest for the day. The night drew near, and with it 
the irrepressible Pomp, loaded with provisions, 
chickens, sweet potatoes, eggs and pork. In their weari- 
ness they had not missed him from the camp, and as to 
all questions as to where he secured his bounty, he 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


121 


would only reply, ^‘Pomp, he set on de big rock, an de 
crows da fetchd um ter me.’’ 

They truly enjoyed their feast. It was supposed 
that the negro had been in these mountains before with 
his former master, at some time in his life, but if so, he 
refused to own up to the fact. No one knew of his his- 
tory, and could get nothing from him as to time or 
place of his former existence. 

At the setting of the sun they started out for an- 
other long night of toil, and arrived at the next station 
at the dawn of the new day. Another day of rest, and 
the coming night brought with it the usual anxiety as 
to what it might bring forth. These men had not for- 
gotten for a moment that back in the humble homes 
were the mothers, wives, sweet girls and sisters left 
behind them, and were then, and were constantly 
breathing a prayer for father, brother and sweetheart. 
And as the evening shadows of the great mountains 
were falling over them, they were called to worship, 
bowing low with their faces in 'the leaves, while an old 
white-haired saint of God directed them in prayer. He 
again commended them to Him to whom they had com- 
mitted their fortunes and hopes for the future. 

The prayer was not a set fixed conventional form of 
reading a prayer, but a plain talk to God, such as men 
talk when face to face. They were made to feel they 
were in the very presence of the great Jehovah. He 
told the Lord all about their loved ones at home, about 
the country, and when he came to the old flag, he 
seemed to be lifted up with a great inspiration and grew 
eloquent, pleading that the old stars and stripes might 
come back to Tennessee, with liberty and freedom for 
all. His earnest, tender pleading seemed to ascend up 
and up, rising on the wings of the mountain breezes, 
there resting for a moment, then on up to the very 


122 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


throne of the Eternal. He seemed to be walking up the 
very stairway of glory, carrying them with him, in his 
arms of faith, putting them down at the Father’s feet. 
These strong men of iron hearts were broken, and wept 
like babies, sprinkling the leaves with their tears. 

There came into the consciousness of some of them 
that it was and would be well with them, whether on 
earth or in heaven. After feasting soul and body, they 
took up the toiling for another long and weary night, 
hoping to reach the higher ranges, out of immediate 
danger, and where they might get a view of “the land 
of the free, and the home of the brave,” and a refuge 
for the oppressed as well. 

This third night the clouds overcast the skies. The 
darkness could be felt; the rain came in torrents; the 
lightning flashed and the thunder rolled, as if to shake 
the rocks from their beds, rendering progress slow, the 
men not knowing what minute they might encounter a 
picket of the enemy’s camp. 

Many were the discouragements attending these 
long weary stampedes, yet thousands of East Tennes- 
see boys and men, took chances for life or death, rather 
than serve with the rebellion against their country’s 
flag. There were so many of these royal men and boys, 
who were loyal, that certain counties of East Tennes- 
see, after furnishing many companies for the Confed- 
erate army, furnished more soldiers for the Northern 
army than they had voters at the ballot box after the 
war closed. It is doubtful if this bit of history could 
have been duplicated either North or South in the 
United States, or in any other country in the world. 

This little marching column toiled on their way 
until after midnight, then took an hour for rest and 
refreshments, and again struck the trail. The little 
Captain could not eat. A strange aching in his back 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


123 


and limbs, while pulling up the mountain side, indi- 
cated fever. Uncle Dan had carried his gun. Pomp his 
bundle of provisions, but he became sick and burning 
with fever. They dared not leave him, as it might re' 
suit in his capture by the enemy, and his return to his 
final execution at last, after so many providential es- 
capes. 

The great kind-hearted negro. Uncle Dan, lifted him 
on to his back with the tenderness of a mother, and 
carried him, soothing him with, *‘Dar, now, honey, 
Uncle Dan ain ’t guine ter leve yo ’, chile, ter be koched 
by dem secesh an killed, nur left an eted wid de var- 
ments heah in dis dark mountings, ether. No, sah, not 
while dis ole niggah kan walk wid yo’ on he back; no, 
sah, reckon not, sah. An if da leve yo’ heah in dis 
woods. Uncle Dan he stay wid yo ’, an if da kum we die 
togedeh, an when we git ter hebben, we send de angel 
ter tell de little gal, we got dar, yes, sah.” 

“Please don’t talk any more now. Uncle Dan, the 
rebels might hear us and get after us, and you see we 
couldn’t run fast.” 

“Yes, yes, sah, reckon da mought, dat pends on 
what we ’s talkin ’ ’bout, I ’spects, don ’ yo ’, Captaing 
Dick?” 

The faithful old black man climbed over rock and 
logs, up and down, and across the little swollen streams 
until nearly exhausted, without a murmur. Then hei 
and Pomp assisted him to walk between them until the 
next stop at daylight. 

l^omp, the strange, wild blinking “nigger,” never 
tired, never slept nor rested, as other men. Wheii 
asked when he slept, he said, “I sleep on mi lages, I jis 
set em goin’ an go ter sleep an da go on, an I sleep.” 

After all were settled down to sleep and rest, Pomp 
was missing again, and no one knew where to look for 


124 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


him; in fact, they had ceased to care where he went, 
or when he came, as he seemed to care for himself, yet 
they were expecting to lose him on some of his wild ex- 
cursions. The afternoon brought Pomp to camp, with 
a small mule loaded with forage for his friends. They 
voted Pomp the best and most useful man in the com- 
pany. This strange human creature never ceased to be 
a marvel to his friends, always doing wonderful things, 
which no one else would think of trying to do. He ap- 
peared to be possessed with superhuman strategy. One 
of the men who saw him coming in to camp said, 
“There, boys, comes our angel in ebony; most of them, 
I suppose are white, but this one is black as a pot. He 
is a peculiar combination of angel, man, beast and 
devil.” 

When the march was resumed at night, Dick rode 
Pomp’s stolen mule, dividing the time with others, who 
were sick and worn out and breaking down. They 
were all footsore, shoes worn out, clothing torn to 
shreds, held about their bodies with strips of bark 
peeled from trees by the wayside. At times the path 
was stained with blood from their feet. Uncle Dan, the 
faithful old negro, finally fell by the wayside. Captain 
Dick .refused to leave him, and tried to get him on to 
the mule, but he was unable to ride. They supposed he 
would die in a few days. Dick went to a small cottage 
up on the mountain, a hunter ’s shack, and asked shelter 
for Dan. The hunter was loyal, gave the sign of the 
Union League, but insisted that if a negro was found 
hiding in his shanty the enemy would murder both him 
aud his family. After the little Captain had given him 
a part of Dan’s history, he became more interested and 
finally relented, as Dick detailed to him the heroism 
of the negro, telling him how he saved his life, and what 
a fighter he was. At last the hunter said, “Yes, gen- 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


125 


tlemen, I will take him, and if they get him, they will 
pay the biggest price that a nigger ever brought in 
this neck-o-woods, eh.” Dick insisted on staying with 
Dan, for just a day, and then following up to the com- 
pany, but the old Captain positively forbade it. 

Pomp was broken-hearted upon leaving his black 
friend, and the Captain had to force him to go on. The 
old negro bade them a cheerful farewell, saying, “I’s 
nuthin but a niggah, nohow, don’ make no odds nohow 
fo’ me, cans I ain’t goin’ ter die, nohow, if dis good 
good massa gives me ah bed an a little con’ pone, I 
live, sho you’s bon; den I pay him somehow, I reckon 
I will, sah, if 1 live.” 

After getting breakfast and resting, they waited un- 
til noon, and thought, as they were so far from the 
enemy’s headquarters that they could risk travelling 
by day. They entered the road leading down a little 
valley to a small town, said to" be loyal to the Union. 
This move was contrary to the Captain’s judgment, but 
he let the men have their way. A mounted scouting 
party of the enemy saw them, but not before they were 
seen by the “yelling nigger,” who took to the brush, 
making a dash for the thickets. The Captain com- 
manded his men to the north side of the road, and to 
the trees. ‘ ‘ Stand your ground, men ; there are only a 
few of them.” The firing from the trees, and Pomp’s 
firing and yelling down in the brush, had the desired 
effect to check them in their charge; they feared to 
pass the laurel thicket where the firing and yelling 
ca!me from at the first advance. During this brief re- 
spite, the men concealed themselves in the brush at a 
safe distance, to again advance with a return fire. The 
enemy, fearing that the laurel thicket was a live nest, 
retreated. The Home Guards waited for the enemj^ to 


126 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


advance, but they continued the retreat, and were seen 
no more. 

The Captain left the road and continued on the trail 
until the end of the day’s journey. Night came as 
they reached a large expanse of thicket and un- 
dergrowth of laurel. This was selected as a good 
hiding place for the night, and with pickets 
stationed at all points convenient they went into 
camp for the night hidden in the deep mountain cove. 
Pomp was still absent; no one knew anything about 
him. They sent two men back to look for him, think- 
ing he might have been wounded, or captured in the 
last skirmish, but they failed to find him as before, 
and were obliged to surrender him to his fate. 

“Where can the fool nigger be?” No one even ven- 
tured an opinion. 

“Well, Cap, your nigger is gone this time sure, and 
if they get him, they will make him tell where we are. ’ ’ 

“No, gentlemen, you may rest assured if he is in 
their hands, he will never reveal anything, and will be 
with us again soon unless they kill him. While he is a 
strange, mysterious creature, if he is your friend, you 
may trust him to the limit. He is the greatest fool and 
the smartest boy I have ever known. Whatever you 
may get out of such contradiction of terms, is perhaps 
what I mean.” 

Near the midnight hour the picket hailed approach- 
ing men. Pomp answered the challenge and advanced 
followed by a number of large, heavily armed men. 
The Captain’s fighting instincts came nearly getting 
the better of him, for he had vowed never to be 
taken prisoner alive by his foe. As he sprang for his gun 
others did the same. Pomp threw up his long arms and 
shouted; “Drop dat gun, Capting, do’n yo’ shoot!” 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 127 

e)^st in the nick of time to save friends from shooting 
friends. 

Then Pomp got a free lecture for coming into camp 
with strange men and not letting them know first, and 
getting permission for them to enter. All of which 
was wasted on the wind. Reprimand or praise was 
all the same to him; he cared nothing for either, nor 
did not know how to receive them. 

It developed that Pomp, in his night prowling, had 
run into a sleeping camp of Union men; and how he 
passed their pickets they never knew, neither did he; 
but he was caught in the act of stealing their ammuni- 
tion. One of them caught him by the legs and another 
assisted, and they threw him from his feet; it took 
four strong men to master him. After this was done 
they thought he was insane, and contemplated shoot- 
ing him, to get him out of his misery. As he sat 
silently among them, he suspected them as Union men, 
and gave them the well-known sign of the League. 
They answered ft; he returned the reply so perfectly 
that they relented as to the intention of shooting him 
and began probing him with questions. Their leader 
said he was the smartest black man he had ever met. 
Pomp related to them, after being perfectly satisfied 
as to who and what they were, all about Captain 
Brown’s company being near by, and the conflict they 
had down the little valley. These men had also met the 
same enemy, a little later and sent a number of them 
over the eternal river. The new men joined the Cap- 
tain ’s forces under his command, making a company of 
pl^er one hundred and fifty. 

The daylight came again, a beautiful day, bright 
and clear. Resolving to push their way northward as 
fast as possible, they were up and off early, having re- 
ceived the happy news, that one more day’s toiling 


128 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


would put them beyond the danger line. They were 
also informed that the remainder of the journey was 
beset with unusual danger, as the enemy was watching 
the border line with larger forces, and many of the 
refugees had been caught after they thought they had 
passed the danger line. But these men were happy and 
jubilant, full of bright hopes, and had marched for 
three hours, without molestation, when, as if by some 
mysterious magic, there sprang from the thick brush, 
on either side of the road, more than five hundred of 
the enemy, with their guns in their faces, demanding 
surrender. They were behind them and before them; 
confronted thus, face to face, in close proximity, there 
was not a vestige of hope nor opportunity for defense. 

They were prisoners at last, and so suddenly that 
they had no time for a single movement, without in- 
curring immediate death. These dismounted cavalry- 
men had secreted their horses after travelling all the 
previous night to reach this point ahead of Captain 
Brown and his men. Of course, they quietly surren- 
dered. During the process of disarming. Captain 
Brown looked them over carefully, noting that none 
of them were of his former personal enemies, and hoped 
they would not recognize any of his men. During the 
enrollment, the captain gave a false name, the rest 
of them took the cue, and also gave fictitious names, 
claiming to be from North Carolina. 

“Well, boys, this is a good old North Carolina catch, 
ehf” said their Colonel commanding. “Guess these 
fellows will be residents of Virginia for a while, when 
we report with them at Richmond.’’ 

Captain Brown was delighted with the plan of be- 
ing sent to Virginia, rather than back to East Tennes- 
see. The enemy were in total ignorance of the fact 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


129 


that they had captured men with a price set upon their 
heads. 

The only hope of the subject and principal hero of 
our story now was that he might avoid being recog- 
nized by his captors, as one sentenced “to hang until 
you are dead, and may God have mercy on your soul. ’ ’ 
After a careful inspection of the prisoners, for they 
seemed to be looking for some especial one, there ap- 
peared to be no special recognition of any one by the 
captors, as far as could be ascertained. 

After remaining on the ground of their victory for 
several hours the commander arranged for a guard of 
twenty of his best men to take charge of his prisoners. 
By this act it became self-evident, the commander had 
but little conception of the character of his prisoners. 
Our captive Captain noted this, and was more than sur- 
prised, and very much pleased, and thought to himself : 
“They will never secure their prize with twenty men.” 

When they saw Pomp they^ wondered at his crazy 
actions, and said, “What is that? that big heathen! 
Look at the cuss, better shoot him and put him out of 
his misery. ’ ’ 

Pomp was not shot, but allowed to pass with the 
rest of them. If they could have known him, or could 
have had a glimpse of the future, they would have dis- 
posed of him on the spot. Our Captain resolved that 
if they did not divide the prisoners, but allowed them 
to remain together, and with twenty guards, they 
would not travel far on the back track toward Virginia. 

It is well to state that while the enemy had cen- 
tered their forces on this border line, to prevent refu- 
gees from crossing the line Northward, the Union men 
had also gathered in force to assist their friends in 
getting through. These Union men were of the very 
select, chosen for their bravery, and good judgment. 


130 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


They were of the mountain rangers, well armed and 
mounted, knew no fear, took few prisoners and were 
noted for deeds of daring, when life was estimated as 
of little value in the accomplishment of their purpose. 
While this may not be creditable to them, yet the very 
intense condition of affairs had its tendency to drive 
men to desperate things. 

CHAPTER XIV. 

CAPTUKING THE MILL. 

This large detachment of the enemy, after starting 
their prisoners toward their destination with the trusty 
guards, marched away to other fields of conquest. The 
prisoners were marched on slowly, as their condition 
was not such as to be rushed by a merciful guardian. 
Two of the prisoners were very cheerful, and seemingly 
willing to be led or directed as the guards thought best, 
faithful to every demand of their guards. 

This was the role agreed upon by the old Captain 
and his son Dick, that, if possible, they might throw 
the captors off their guard, thereby relaxing their dili- 
gence, making them believe they were guarding an 
ordinary crowd of refugee-citizens. Pomp seemed to 
see the ruse of the two Captains first, though he had 
not been instructed, and began to play his part, but no 
one ever knew what it would be, though sure he would 
do something later. The guards gave but little atten- 
tion to the “crazy nigger.’’ He appeared, if possible, 
more crazy than ever, thoroughly deceiving the guards, 
who left him to do quite as he pleased. He kept near 
the side of his “Massa Dick,” or the old Captain, 
watching every movement, evidently desiring an oppor- 
tunity to speak to them. He had cleverly succeeded 
in retaining one of his six*shooters, when the search 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


131 


was made, the enemy not thinking that a crazy fool 
would have two revolvers. At night, Dick and the 
Captain managed to lie down near together, near the 
outside of the company. They might have escaped by 
a rush for freedom, but they waited to save their men, 
if possible. The vigilance of the guards prevented any- 
thing like a general rush for liberty, without incurring 
great risk of life. 

During the night Dick discovered that Pomp was 
gone, but said nothing, except whispering to his father, 
“Something will happen yet at the hands of that ‘crazy 
nigger ’ ; he is gone. ’ ’ When morning came, the guards 
noticed the absence of the negro, but cared little, since 
he was a fool, anyway. Dick made himself useful to 
the officer in charge, assisting in the preparation of the 
breakfast of that worthy, thereby farther gaining the 
confidence of that important dignitary. Just before 
starting on the march. Pomp put in his appearance. 
“Hain’t bin nowhufs, jist lin’ rond in de bresh, trin ter 
git som sleep.” 

This was all his captors could get out of him, which 
seemed to satisfy them; his friends knew better, but 
could not surmise what the negro was up to. It was 
revealed afterward that the negro had traveled a dis- 
tance of twelve miles during the night, six out and six 
back, and returned in time to allay all suspicion for 
his absence. 

Two horsemen rode up and hailed the commander of 
the guard. They held quite a long consultation with 
himi Pomp was sitting near Captain Dick, with his 
head down in his hands as if asleep. Dick heard him 
talking low as if to himself, “Cap’n Dick, dem big 
man ’s out dar am our fends, sah ; yo ’ look ut sah, sum- 
ting 's guine ter hapin, sah.” 


132 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


Dick asked several questions, but could get nothing 
more ; he appeared to have gone to sleep and would not 
talk. The consultation over, the rebel Commander 
turned to his men, and said, ‘ ‘ I am informed that there 
are a few more refugees passing out on another road, 
and are now in camp, and as our prisoners are not of 
the dangerous kind, and these gentlemen will guide 
fifteen of us to where they are. We are going, and, 
you. Sergeant, take the other five and take these people 
through a nearer and shorter route on foot. We will 
take the horses, and meet you at the junction of the 
main road, at a small cottage four miles farther on. 
Be careful.” 

This arrangement was in accord with the advice 
given the commander by the two strangers, after con- 
vincing him of their loyalty to the holy cause of the 
Confederacy. The Commander was just on the eve of 
starting, after -giving the Sergeant his instructions, 
when Pomp, as if just awakened from a dream, al*ose 
and said: “Wha dis. niggah go? Nobody wants po’ 
Pomp, I reckon.” 

“You come with me, nigger,” said the officer of the 
guard. 

“No,” said one of the new guides, “we want no fool 
nigger with us on this trip.” 

That settled it. Pomp went with the prisoners. The 
turn was made to a perfection. Pomp was playing a 
part, and his friends did not know it. In fact, they 
knew nothing of the plot going on around them. These 
new-found friends were also playing a part, and a most 
dangerous part, too. If an unfortunate slip should 
occur, they would be shot from their horses instantly. 
The two guides led the way, and defiected the Comman- 
der and his men on to a false trail, after riding on (as 
the guardsmen thought) toward the camp of the refu- 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


133 


gees, the two guides stopped and suggested that the 
horses be left and hidden in the brush, and they go on 
foot, quietly stealing on to the refugees and capturing 
them. The guides led them afoot more than a mile 
from their horses. They then halted, and said to the 
guards, “You all lay down and be quiet, and we will 
crawl out into these brush and see if they are there 
sleeping yet.” 

Then, down on hands and knees they crept into the 
thick brush, until out of sight 6f the fifteen guards. 
Then leaping to their feet, ran, taking a cross-cut for 
the hidden horses, leaving their trusting co-Confeder- 
ates( ?) to await their return. Upon reaching the horses 
they mounted one each, and led as many as they could, 
turning the remainder loose, and, of course, the animals 
followed, and with all speed possible the cavalcade 
reached the prisoners and the five guardsmen. 

Captain ^ Brown could scarcely believe that they 
were to be left with only five guards and a Sergeant. 
He knew that to overpower these few guards and go 
free would be but a small job, and yet they would be 
free in the enemy’s country, without arms, and so sure 
“was he that there was a plot of some kind on that he 
thought better to await further developments. 

Pomp kept edging his way to the side of the Cap- 
tain. The Captain had been watching the negro closely, 
trying to get an inkling of what was in his woolly head. 
Pomp was slowly trudging on close beside the Captain, 
and pushed himself against him. In the act he slipped 
two navy revolvers to the Captain. Then slowly fall- 
ing back, found himself next to Captain Dick, and in 
like manner gave him one; then, as he looked steadily 
at the ground before him, said, “Capt’n Dick, yo’ go 
mity slo if — if; — yo’ kan, sah.” Then louder, as if for 
the ears of the guard, “Capting, dis heah niggah, he 


134 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


am siker ner’ then a dog, ferd I’s guinter die ; I’s guine 
* ter res, I reckon. Youn’s go long, an dis niggah Pomp 
he kum if — if he don’ die, by-um-bi.” 

The guards, caring but little what became of the 
nigger, gave no attention to him. Pomp laid down by 
the roadside, groaning as if he were dying. After get- 
ting out of the sight of the guards, he leaped to his feet 
and ran down the back track like a quarter-horse, until 
meeting the coming horsemen. Slowly and onward the 
prisoners traveled, but before reaching the designated 
point at the cottage, the guard heard the sound of 
horses’ feet on the road behind them and became 
alarmed. When the horsemen came in sight, they saw 
as they supposed, their own men, and halted to wait for 
them one of the guards set his gun against a tree, leav- 
ing it for more than the space of a rod. Instantly Dick 
had appropriated it, handing a revolver to each of two 
of his fellow-prisoners, then drawing another from his 
breast pocket (that his captors had failed to find), 
giving the gun to another, waited for something to 
happen. His father saw tne movement, arid having 
the revolvers, given him by the negro, they covered the 
guards, commanding “hands up,” as the horsemen 
dashed up, so that they were again covered with their 
guns commanding a surrender. 

arms that came from several directions. Prom whence 
they came, no one knew. The company moved with 
their guards, who were now their prisoners, to a more 
secure location, guided by their new-found friends. 
When they went into camp for the night, they were 
stronger in fighting force than ever before. 

The old Captain again took command. He, however, 
refused to dispose of their prisoners, as was suggested 
by the guides, saying to his good friends who had 
helped him, “We are defenders of our lives, our coun- 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


135 


try, and the flag, but we stop at cold murder, just be- 
cause we happen to be in power.” 

“But these men are traitors to our government. 
Why not execute them as such? They would kill you 
if they dared.” 

“No, sir. They had an opportunity, and did not; 
neither will I.” 

More of the horses were found that had been turned 
loose by the two guides, as they attempted to follow 
those brought in at the first charge. 

All of this plan which resulted in the rescue of the 
prisoners, was first set in motion by the “crazy nig- 
ger”; then carried out by more mature-thinking men. 
The prisoners were offered parole, but they refused it, 
saying if permitted they would remain with them and 
go North and join the Northern army. They were 
found faithful, and made good soldiers for Uncle Sam. 

When night came the company found themselves 
weary, footsore apd hungry, with nothing to eat, for 
horse or man, and as there was nothing to be had, they 
accepted the situation heroically without complaint, 
and lying down on the cold ground soon fell asleep, 
expecting that the next day would bring relief. When 
all had become quiet, they were broken in upon by the 
clatter of horses’ feet coming down the road on the 
gallop. They were soon up, and in arms, ready to re- 
ceive whatever might be coming. But the horseman 
proved to be “that nigger” again, who never slept or 
was tired. He came boldly in, never thinking that he 
took the risk of getting his head shot off. 

“Wha, dat, Capting? Dis niggah, he found dat mill 
down dar wid gob’s ob’ meal, yes, sah, con-meal, an — 
an — lot’s o cob’s an — an tings fo’ de bosses, sah; yes, 
sah, reckon da is.” 


136 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“What? You fool nigger, there isn’t a mill within 
fifty miles of these mountains. ’ ’ 

“Yes, sah, Massa, reckon da is, sah. I seed dat mill 
myse’f; down dar ’bout fo’ mile f’om dis place, sah. 
It wuz dis’ gri’in’ away on de con’, sah, yes, sah; 
reckon da am, sah, sho’s yo’ bon’, sah.” 

“We will investigate, Mr. Pom-pa,” said the Cap- 
tain. 

“Yes, sah. Cap ting, reckon yo’ will, but ’member, 
Capting, da be sum foks dar, what mout ax yo ’ sum in- 
terjections, fo’ yo’ git ter etin’ dat meal, sah, yes, sah, 
reckon da mout, sah.” 

“What folks. Pomp?” 

“Well, sah, da am de same kind what bin fussin’ wid 
us fo’ fiv weks bak, I reckon da is, sah.” 

‘ ‘ Do you mean that the rebels are guarding the mill, 
sir ? ” 

“Yes, sah, reckon da am, sah; da hab dat komplex- 
shun, sah.” 

“How many are there at the mill. Pomp?” 

“Don’ no, sah; reckon da be fo’ five huner tousan, 
sah.” 

“0, you foolish boy, there isn’t five hundred thou- 
sand in the whole Confederacy. ’ ’ 

“Yes, sah. No, sah. Dis niggah he do’n no nuthin’ 
’bout dat figer’n truk; yo’ jis go dar an hep yo’ self’ 
ter dat meal, an yo’ do dat countin’ while yo’ eat, sah, 
den yo ’ no ’ fo ’ yo ’ sef , sah. ” 

“Dick, you may take the nigger and ride down 
there and investigate; take no chances, but see what 
you can find, and report.” 

Dick returned, and reported a small corn-cracking 
mill down on a little mountain stream, and a small 
rebel guard stationed there, or camped there for the 
night. It developed later that they were stationed 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


137 


there to capture hungry refugees, who might come 
there for food, from the higher ranges of the moun- 
tains. 

‘‘Captain,” said Dick, “let me take Pomp, and five 
well-mounted men, and I will break up that little nest 
of rebels down there.” 

“Young man, you are too rash, and ready for dan- 
ger,” said the Captain. 

“No, my good father Captain. I saw while there 
how easily it could be done. I can do it, and not lose 
a man or horse.” 

“I fear, my boy, your zeal will yet overreach your 
judgment.” 

“Yes, that might he. But, Captain, give me this 
job, I would like awful well to do it ; it will be lots of 
fun.” 

“Well, go and do it, my little Captain. When I 
come to think of it, I guess you can do it, if anyone 
can. Now, as we have plenty of men and horses, per- 
haps you had better take eight or ten of them with 
you ; it will be safer. ’ ’ 

“Captain, if you please, sir, I will take only five 
men and the nigger, more than that will bother me. ’ ’ 

“You may take the five and the negro; I do not 
seem to understand you to-night. ’ ’ 

Captain Dick sent his “crazy nigger” with his two 
six-shooters and his “Indian yell,” afoot through the 
brush to the back of the mill, near the sleeping quar- 
tette by the fire they had built. At the signal he was 
to begin firing his revolvers, and raise his Indian yell. 
When all was ready, Dick laid his gun on the top rail 
of the fence, and for a signal, he shot the torch out of 
the fellow’s hand who was lighting the miller about 
his work in the mill. The torch being shot into the dark- 
ness, the firing and yell of the negro, had the desired 


138 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


effect to set the defenders coming down the road to- 
ward Dick’s five waiting men, running almost into 
their arms. A loud “halt!” and they were prisoners. 
The miller was found hiding beneath his little corn- 
hopper. The proud little Captain reported with his 
prisoners at camp, and received the congratulations 
of the men. The old Captain was much pleased with 
the results, and commended the judgment of the junior 
Captain. 

The camp was moved to the mill for the remainder 
of the night. Men and horses were fed and rested. 
They found a warm-hearted Union man caring for the 
mill. He asked how they got so large a company of 
men behind the mill without being detected; he didn’t 
understand how they could have marched there so 
quietly and he not know it. Then he was told that the 
latge company was only one man, and a nigger at that. 
One of the men said to him, “Look here, this is the 
feller that did it,” pointing to Pomp. 

After gazing at Pomp for a time, and looking him 
over a second time, shifting his “ter-back-er ” to the 
other side of his mouth, and balancing himself on the 
other foot, the miller said, “Wall, I’ll be dinged!” 

This little mill had been designated for months, as 
one of the stopping places for refugees. They were sur- 
prised when the miller informed them that just above 
the mill, on the mountain side, there was a secret hid- 
ing place for refugees, and there were men hiding there 
at this time. He did not know how many, but said he 
would find out and report in the morning, as he had to 
carry food there whenever he could do it with safety. 
These loyal mountain men and women were constantly 
helping those who were making their way to the North, 
and they brought food from miles around and deliv- 
ered it, so it could be taken to this general deposit. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


139 


This was an instance of the faithfulness of the moun- 
tain people of Kentucky and East Tennessee. They 
saved during the years of sixty-one, two and three, 
thousands of those refugees from starving, or falling 
into the hands of the, rebels. These mountain people 
were crude, unsophisticated and unpolished, as the 
world estimates people, and yet they were a great 
people in their way, strong in character as the rocks 
among which thy lived, pure in life with good common 
sense. 

Hundreds of them would have been good Major 
Generals, commanding armies, had environments been 
conducive in that direction. This writer, with hun- 
dreds and thousands of others, owes to them a debt of 
eternal gratitude. If one of them, living yet, should 
read these words and feel the tender heart-swell that 
I now feel while writing, I have been rewarded. 

CHAPTER XV. 

WOUNDED IN BATTLE. 

The night passed in waiting for the coming day, 
with but little sleeping or resting, as they had been so 
often so near, and hope grew bright, only to be blasted. 
They were learning now to wait with patience until 
the gate closed behind them, if it ever should, that joy 
might have its fruition in all of its fullness. Up bright 
and early the next morning, hoping to devote the last 
day of toiling on their way across the safety line to the 
land of liberty. Earlier than usual, they began the 
onward march, mounting the sick and feeble on the 
horses. They took only such provisions from the mill 
as might help them through the day, leaving as much 
as possible for those who might come after them, with 
hunger as consuming as theirs had been. Soon all 


140 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


fear of danger passed, and there followed such a sweet, 
free and refreshing feeling of security, like a new life- 
giving fountain of satisfaction, such as they had not 
experienced for many months. Their very souls seemed 
to drink deeply of it and be refreshed. There was but 
one sad thought that marred the overflowing heart; 
the dear ones left behind to suffer and endure. 

As the evening of the last day drew near, and while 
traveling along the crest of a hill, as if by magic there 
sprang into view, just below them, a long blue line of 
horsemen, the Yankee cavalry, and farther down in the 
valley, at evening “dress parade,’’ the long lines of 
splendid, active, blue-coated infantry, bright with glit- 
tering guns, swords and burnished trappings. The 
golden sunlight seemed to split its fiery shafts on the 
glittering steel, as it fell shimmering to the ground, but 
the most transcendently beautiful of all was the old 
royal standard, the “red, white and blue,” the glorious 
“stars and stripes,” in double and triple stands of 
colors, now afloat on freedom’s balmy breezes, fragrant 
with the flowers of a hopeful springtime. 

We dare not undertake to paint, picture or portray 
the emotions that thrilled these loyal hearts, as they 
gazed on this beautiful panorama. They had fought 
and suffered for so long ! The starry banner had been 
hidden away; they had walked by faith, and alone in 
the dark; but now, entering into the light of liberty 
once more, the full fruition of their hopes, the old 
“bonny banner” so long trodden beneath the traitor’s 
foot and blasted by treason’s breath, shredded by 
treacherous hands, but now floating on the breeze, 
proclaiming liberty to all mankind! When all of this 
beautiful vision flashed out from beneath the dark 
cloud of the past, it was too much for some of the old 
men, who had long carried the heaviest burdens, the 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


141 


greatest responsibilities. They sat down in silence and 
wept for joy ; but the younger sent great swelling hos- 
annas to the men below. Shouts of joy swelled on the 
swift winds that hurled them against the old gray rocks 
beyond. The Yankee boys answered back, with cheer 
after cheer, until the band took it from them with the 
“Star Spangled Banner.” It seemed to those poor 
men that sweeter music never vibrated from the harp- 
strings of the angels in heaven than this, that strained 
the heart to the verge of bursting. 

The reader is reminded that these long lines of 
Yankees were mostly men and boys who had formerly 
made their escape from East Tennessee during a rebel 
draft the previous August — refugees from the same 
neighborhoods and communities as our little company. 
Happy greetings of friends followed, and strong em- 
braces of those supposed to have been killed and lost 
sight of, sometimes fathers and sons. There were many 
anxious inquiries as to “the folks at home,” “My wife 
and children,” “My father and mother,” or this, and 
that friend or neighbor. Quite a few men yet live to 
remember this wonderful day over in the “promised 
land!” 

The greeting over, next came the enlistment, if they 
chose, and few chose otherwise. Many of them were 
exceedingly anxious to get on an equal footing with 
the enemy, who had exercised his privileges to the 
limit. There was a matter that troubled the friends of 
the “yelling negro,” what to do with him. They were 
under obligations to care for him, and people would 
not understand him, and his friends must care for him, 
as he had been of great value to them. It was finally 
decided to install him as company cook, but the poor 
fellow was out of his element as cook. He did not 
take to it. His nature was that of the wild, the moun- 


142 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


tain warfare was perfectly suited to his peculiar nature ; 
he could never remember from one day to the next that 
a pint of rice could not be cooked in a pint cup. He 
was wont to say, “Dat kank-sa-kated veg-e-ta-bul-king- 
dom-kum, jist gits my tim’ de ’wust oh' all; he git 
bigger al ^ de tim yo ’ kook him. Dem bens da ’ am mity 
swellen stuf , sho ’s yo ’ bon ’. Dis niggah, he bile um, an 
bile um, and he git wus, an wuser. ’ ’ 

When beans, coffee, vegetables and rice, all boiled 
over at once. Pomp could only dance and grin, until 
the fire was out. Then he would take to the woods for 
the rest of the day. He was, however, on the front 
line by the side of his Captain in the first battle, re- 
maining there until he saw his Captain fall, mortally 
wounded — as was thought at the time. Later, he left 
the field and the army, for pursuits more to his liking. 
He came in, a few days after the battle, and surprised 
his new captain — Captain Dick. 

“Well, Cap ting Dick, I’s guine home ter see my 
mudder, an — an — yo’ writ yo’ mudder a lettah an’ I 
took him f o ’ yo ’, yes, sah. I ’s guine, I ’s guine rit oway 
ter dat country, sah, an’ dem lettahs da git dar, sho, 
if dis niggah liv, sah.” 

Dick endeavored to persuade him out of it, telling 
him that it was foolish, and if caught, the rebels would 
hang him to the first tree, and that they were all going 
soon — but to no purpose, he would go. 

“Dis ain’t no place fo’ niggahs, nohow; dis fool 
niggah git killed foolin’ round heah yit, I reckon, sah.” 

“Pomp, they will pull your black head off, if you 
go down there; they have found out what you have 
been doing, they will kill you.” 

“Yes, sah; yes, sah; reckon da will, sah, da koch 
me fust, yes, sah, da koch dis niggah fust; I’s gwine, 
anyhow, sah, Capting.” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


143 


And go he did, and accomplished splendid work 
during the coming months, carrying mail in and out 
through the rebel lines. New companies and regiments 
were being formed rapidly from these people, arriving 
now in large squads every day. 

Captain Brown, for gallant service on the field of 
battle, was offered promotion and commission as a field 
officer and accepted it. Dick, while a captain in the 
Home Guards, had not attained that distinction in the 
regular service, but was made lieutenant in his father’s 
company. Later, when the father was promoted, Dick 
was offered the captaincy of the company and refused, 
insisting he was not qualified for so great responsi- 
bility, on account of his youth, and there were many 
others who were older, and more competent to fill the 
place.” 

But the men with whom he had fought many bat- 
tles, would not take no for an answer, and notwith- 
standing his earnest protest, he was made the head 
and Captain of the company. Being duly commissioned 
and receiving his fine uniform, all in Captain’s outfit 
for line service, he might, but for his exceeding mod- 
esty, have looked the very picture of the modern hero. 
The clothing was too fine the “shoulder-straps” too 
flashy ; he was ever ill at ease, and longed for his trusty 
gun and cartridge box. They were put on the drill 
grounds, day by day. Drill, drill ; they wearied with it 
and longed for orders to march to the front again. 
These men, who had been so active, longed for action 
on the field of conquest, where they might contest the 
right of the enemy to take from them homes, houses, 
lands and loved ones. 

The next engagement with the enemy was no skir- 
mish; it was a warm contest for a time, and doubt 
hovered over the conflict as to who would be the vie- 


144 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


tors. The day was won, but at a great cost; some of 
these brave boys fell with their faces homeward. The 
little Captain again proved himself a fighter, but not a 
commander. Securing a gun, he went in side by side 
with the men on the front line. 

When the battle was over, and they were in quar- 
ters once more. Captain Richard Brown had lost his 
sword, and was in possession of a gun that gave evi- 
dence of having been used. He could not remember 
where, when or how his sword disappeared, he said 
afterwards. When he saw his men going down, he felt 
as if the sword was useless, and seeing a gun near by 
he took it and used it as fast as he could, to the end 
of the fight. The officers of the regiment were called 
into council. At this meeting Dick was asked why he 
did not keep the command of his company. He only 
replied that he was too busy ; and they didn T need com- 
manding ; they fought too well to be bothered with him. 

He was more than anxious for them to take his com- 
mission from him. He immediately resigned, sending 
in his resignation, with the request to be placed in the 
ranks as a private soldier. To this request his company 
revolted, signing a petition to have his resignation re- 
jected, saying they could not and would not take any 
other man over them as Captain. Then the old Colonel 
took a hand, requesting Dick’s presence at his tent. 
Dick would not go until the Colonel ordered him 
brought in. The other officers had heard of his valiant 
service, and were also called to counsel with the 
Colonel. 

Dick became rather a conspicuous character in the 
regiment. After his friendly and fatherly talk with his 
Colonel, he returned to his company and took up his 
duties as captain again. As a drill-master, he was par- 
excellent, surpassing any man in the regiment. His 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


145 


masterly skill was manifest every time his company 
was called upon for duty, inspection or dress parade. 
His men were in love with him, and strictly obeyed his 
orders to the letter, every man doing his best. His 
superior officers said of him, ‘‘That boy will go to the 
top some day, if nothing happens to hini.” The regi- 
ment, with the brigade, was again ordered to the front. 
They were marched to a country in front of the enemy, 
not far from their homes. This was what they had been 
longing for — to fight the enemy on their native soil. 
Time hung heavy with them for several days, with only 
a skirmish now and then, shifting from point to point. 
But they were soon to contest for the mastery over the 
field, the enemy being as determined as they for the 
victory. 

They were instructed to be ready at a given time 
for the attack. While waiting for the forward order, 
Dick stepped out before his company and gave them a 
little talk, the longest speech of his life, which gave 
to each man a determination to do his best. 

“Men, you are brave, good soldiers. I have seen 
you tried and tested to the limit, hence am not ex- 
pecting to say anything to you to make you braver or 
better ; only, remember to-day as we go into this battle 
— if we do — you are in your own country and com- 
munity; this is home to us, and there are dear people 
now praying for our success. We are where the enemy 
persecuted us, and drove us to the hills and caves like 
dogs. Will they do it again? Yes, if they can. We 
will oppose some of them to-day, perhaps, the identical 
persons. Now, remember, mothers, sisters and — and 
others at home, and do your best like men. I know I 
can’t command you as a Captain, I do not know how, 
but I can lead you, and heaven helping me, I will. If 
you go where I take this” (taking a small silk flag 


146 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


from his coat pocket, and unfurling it before them) 
‘‘you will be where the enemy is the thickest, and 
where the battle is the hottest. I am going there, and 
I am going to take this flag with me, live or die. Are 
you ready and willing, my good men?” 

Nearly a hundred men were trying to say, “Yes,” 
all at the same time. Many of them were weeping, 
and looking at him through their tears. Stepping 
back to his place, he added: “Thank you, my good 
men. I wish the order would come. I don’t like this 
waiting. ’ ’ 

His eyes had filled with tears when holding the 
flag before his men, and they were wiping their eyes, 
but that grim smile that played over their bronze faces 
meant much to the young Captain. They were waiting. 
None but those who have thus waited can know what 
such waiting means. Many have been helped by kind 
words from their commanders at such critical moments 
of expectancy. Where this boy learned the art, none 
could tell. 

The challenging shot came at last, crashing through 
the trees over their heads, and another, again and 
again, shaking the earth beneath their feet, and the 
answering shot came from over the Way, and another, 
and again and again. The battle was on, the challenge 
soon became a duel between the great guns on either 
side. The battle lines drew closer; then came the vol- 
ley from the front lines, then the charge, contending 
for the advantages of the field. The enemy went back, 
to again come forward; the Union forces wavered for 
a time, but finally rushed on again, up to the very edge 
of the works of the enemy, and finally over the ram- 
parts. Reinforcements expected were slow in arriv- 
ing, and while wavering Dick’s company lost heavily. 
The sword had fallen from Dick’s broken arm, but 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


147 


‘‘the flag was still there.” The enemy rallied again 
and recaptured the works, with the remnant of Dick’s 
company in them. They were prisoners, and hurried 
to the rear. The little Captain had fallen in a faint 
from loss of blood, and was supposed to have been 
killed. He was last seen standing on the works of the 
enemy, with a lifeless arm hanging and bleeding by 
his side, while he waved his flag with the other hand. 
Another, an enemy, captured his flag and slipped it 
into his waistcoat. Reinforcements Anally arrived, and 
stampeded the enemy, but Dick ’s regiment had suffered 
greatly, and it really seemed as if Dick’s company had 
been swept from the face of the earth. 

The interval that must now intervene, seemed to 
certain ones to be an age. Suffice it to say, that about 
ten days after the battle (which was considered about 
even between the contending forces), in a rebel hos- 
pital one beautiful morning, our little Captain hero 
awoke from a long dream, looking about him with won- 
der and surprise, but most surprised when flnding his 
right arm gone. “Where is it? Who did it? How? 
How?” It all came to him. His heart swelled to 
bursting for a moment with grief, a great disappoint- 
ing shadow had fallen over him. He lay quietly, think- 
ing, gathering up the threads behind him, and all be- 
came clear at last. That arm seemed to be there, there 
were sensation in the Angers of the hand, but as he 
looked, it was gone, and there was no mistake. (The 
soldier losing an arm often has such sensations when 
the amputation is not skilfully performed). Soon, his 
innate manhood came to him, and he was himself again, 
determined to brave the worst. “Well, one thing I 
know, I am not dead yet. Perhaps it might have been 
better otherwise. God is not dead, and he may have 


14a LOVE TESTED IN THE 

a purpose in view in this, and I will leave it in His 
hands.’’ 

“Good-morning, howdy, my little man. You have 
come hack to life, I see; glad you are better, I reckon.” 

“Is this a hospital ” asked Dick. 

“Yes, sah, this is a Confederate hospital, sir.” 

“And you are the doctor caring for the men?” 

“Well, I reckon you have sized it up correctly, sir.” 

“Doctor, did you take my arm off?” 

“Oh, no, my little man; that was done in the field 
hospital. They sent you here to die; you were about 
dead, sir, when you came. They tell me they found the 
ensign of a captain on you when you were moved from 
the field. One of our men carried you off from the field 
during the battle. Do you know anything about it, 
and why he did it?” 

“No, sir, I know nothing about it, sir, and really I 
did not suppose you had any man so kind as that.” 

“My little man, tell me, were you masquerading, 
or were you a real commissioned officer, with the rank 
of captain ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, my dear doctor, I was a captain, and a very 
poor one, too.” 

“Well, I reckon officer — material was mighty scarce 
when they made a captain of you, sir. ’ ’ 

“Yes, Doctor, one might think as you do. But it 
was mighty plenty around there. I had forty men in 
my company who might have been generals, if they 
had been needed. They were royal brave fellows, I tell 
you, doctor. I can’t just tell you, doctor, why I was a 
captain ; it was not my fault, sir. ’ ’ 

“Well, well, my little man, I was just wondering 
how it came your way; hut never mind now, never 
mind ; you can tell me some other time. Good-bye, my 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


149 


boy^ cheer up now, well have you well in a few days, 
I recfcon, sir/’ 

Left alone, Diek wand^ed CKff in his thou^ts tibe 
battle. Hi i n gs did no=t seem qaadte iclear to him; he 
^ve hhat up, then went (to the jrtoek down by the 
isprmg-iLOuse. Things there seeimed moi® de?finite. The 
good-bye, the sweet face, the little flag. What became 
:oif Anna’s flag? Where is it*? Who took itl All 
-seemed like a strange dream. These were jsome -of the 
wanderings of his mind. Finally, he jsaid to ihimssif : 

must rest; I am >so tired.” 

His eyes closed, and he slept. The young Mfedide 
started surging upward again. Bleasant .dreams of 
home, the beautiful faces, flowers and forms flitted be- 
fore his unsleeping soul while the body rested, and the 
angels watched. 

(SMARTER XWr. 

AISTNA JFOUND HEE SEED. 

While Anna was ait home enjoying the .peace .emd 
comfort that had come to her, yet she was restless, 
wondering what she might do somewhere, ^and some- 
how to be doing good to somebody. After the great 
battle, fought not far from her home. She thought of 
the many poor dying -and sick soldiers lying there, and 
suggested to her mother, that she could be u«eM to 
them, and minister to their comforc if was there. 
But the mother objected, thinking as she was quietly 
seeluded from her former enemy, she. had better remain 
at home and be .contented. “AM things work together 
for good to them that love God,” suggested her 
mother, whose faith in God was supreme in all her 
troubles. “Trust everything with God, and do your 
duty, my dear child, is all that is required of us.'^ ' 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


150 

'‘But mama, dear, that was what I was thinking 
about. What and where is my duty?” 

' “My dear, I am sure it is not in a rebel hospital.” 

“My dear, good mother, if those poor men are sick 
and dying and a word would comfort them and I 
" could give it, what then ^ 

“0, I am so fearful for you, my darling, baby girl. 
If you shoiild he taken from me I could not live; you 
are all I have to live for now, since father is gone.” 

“Well, mother, dear, don’t you think I am pretty 
good at caring for myself?” 

■ ‘^Weii, I hope you won’t think of going down there, 
and yet, if you think it is your duty, I must submit 
'if duty calls. Yet I cannot understand how it is pos- 
sible for yOur duty to he in the line of action you sug- 
gest. Should you be recognized and all the facts known 
relative to your relation to the great disappointment 
of the enemy, in Captain Dick’s escape from the jail, I 
am sure you would lose your freedom, and possibly 
your life. God alone could save you. ’ ’ 

.‘•Mother, dear, I am going to ask God to direct me, 
- and if I think then I ought to go, I will go and trust 
him.” - 

Her mother had heard that some of the home folks 

■ were in the battle, but could get nothing definite. She 
' ' had kept it from the daughter, lest it might make her 

unehsy. ' The. enemy had reported a great victory The 
" thought of the girl was to go to the hospital, and con- 
\ '6eal her identity, and, if possible, minister to the suf- 
: ' fering,' irrespective of the side taken in the conflict. 
" She waited for several days, thinking about it, until it 
became a burden on her heart. She must and would 
go,; and trust God with it all. She finally gained her 

■ mother ’s consent, after praying together about it. After 
arriving, she was horrified with conditions she wit- 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 151 ' 

nessed. In a short time she found many things to do, 
and gained rapidly in the confidence of the doctors and 
nurses. She was really doing a good work, visiting 
ward after ward, and at times, far into the night, be- 
fore she went to her cot for rest. 

In the third tent, from the corner of the camp, going 
East, ward No. 2, and cot No. 27, the card at the head 
of the cot registered, ‘‘Jos. Cunningham, private, 42nd 
Regt. Tenn. VoFs. Inft. !” This man was none other 
than “Joe, the Jailer.” Joe’s life seemed slowly ebb- 
ing out, and, in his delirium, his oft-repeated words 
were, “If she could only come. I know she meant no 
harm to me when she took the keys. Yes, yes, if she 
were here I would tell her all — and she could help me 
to get well.” And, again, “Can’t some of you fetch 
her?” Again, “Yes, I — I took it from his hand when 
I carried him off. 0, yes, he is dead — dead — dead.” 
Joe’s friends wondered at his wild rambling talk. It 
meant something, they were sure, but it was all a 
mystery. 

One morning a lady came through the ward, look- 
ing for her son. In passing she stopped and listened to 
the murmurings of the poor man, and asked the nurse 
why he talked as he did, and if they had searched him 
to find anything to help them to understand him. The 
suggestion led them to a general search of pockets, 
clothing, bedding, and everything about him. Finally, 
they found wrapped around his body, a little silken flag. 
There could be nothing to this, of course. But it was 
a United States flag — this only added more mystery to 
the . situation. The lady examined the flag closely, and 
found a name etched in one corner. The flag was soiled 
and stained with splotches of blood. The name, “Anna 
Belle Clark,” was beautifully worked in etching of fine 
silk, in the corner of the upper white stripe. They held’ 


152 L01^E tested Wl THE 

the £ag before the dying man, He only murmured: 
‘*Yes, he is dead. Why don^t she coined’ 

The lady inquired, “Isn’t that the same name of 
tie girl who was connected with the Home Guards 
at one time? Remember that prison episode that went 
the rounds in the papers?” She took the hag again, 
and looked it over; then said, “Yes, I am confident 
it is the same name. What’s this man’s name?” 

“The records give it as Joseph Cunningham,” said 
the nurse. 

There, that was the name, of her cousin, who let 
the prisoners go. Wasn’t he the man who had charge 
of the jail at the time the spy escaped? This must be 
the same fellow. I wish he had the use of his mind.” 

The niirse suggested that he would never be able to 
give light in the matter; “he has but a few hours to 
live.” 

“Can’t you send for the girl? Can’t you find her 
somewhere. ’ ’ 

They sent for the girl, but when the messenger ar- 
rived at her home there was but little chance to get in- 
formation of any kind. The girl wasn’t to be found. 
The mother was reticent as to giving any information 
concerning the daughter, and not until everything was 
explained over and over again, would she talk of the 
matter, but after being assured that the old matter of 
the jail was not the object in view, and that that mat- 
ter was past and closed, did she venture to make any 
statement. She at last, after carefully considering the 
case, told them that the girl was at the hospital as- 
sisting in the care of the sick and wounded, and that 
they must have seen her. The messenger returned, and 
related what he had learned. 

Then began a general search for Anna, No on© 
of that name could be found on record. But the old 


fiRES OF TIJE SIXTIES 


153 


doctor had been where there was a girl assisting to 
care for the patients, and the girl answered tlie descrip- 
tion given. After being found, Anna was alariped, lest 
trouble was coming again, and began advising and de- 
vising ways and means for an escape. The old doctor, 
she thought, looked wiser than he need to look, if he 
know nothing concerning her history. Yet his kind, 
fatherly manner of treating the subject aeemed to all^ 
her fears. Then she thought again, if the njap they 
called Joseph Cunningham should be her cousin Joe, 
what would he say? Finally, she consented to go and 
see the man they called Cunningham. It was useless 
to try to escape from the place ; apd she was not quite 
sure she could get away, after so much attention had 
been directed to her. So Anna went in answer to a 
summons, supposed to come from her cousin, “Joe the 
jailer,” but soldier now. When she looked at Jiini, she 
cou]d scarcely believe her eyes, he was so emacjated. 
‘‘Yes, it is Joe — ^poor Joe — ^poor Joe. He doesn’t know 
me. ’ ’ She was kneeling by the side of his cot, stroking 
his hot head with delicate touches of her white hpnd. 
The nurse asked her why Joe talked as he did, who was 
it that was dead? She could give thena no lights as she 
knew of no one being dead. Then they handed her the 
flag, saying, ‘ ‘This might help you to know more about 
it. Miss. ’ ’ At flrst she seemed somewhat mystified, but 
soon horror was depicted on her face. White and 
trembling in every limb, she said, “Where did you get 
this?” (She did not faint, she was not of tfie faipting 
kind) . The nurse, pointed to Joe, and said : ‘There ! ’ ’ 

“Did he have it?” 

“Yes, wrapped around his body.” 

“Where was Joe when he was woundefi?” 

“On the battle-field, in that last battle. He was 
brought here with many others, many of both sides. 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


154 

We couldn’t understand what he could have meant.” 

* ‘ This poor dying man is my cousin. May I be per- 
mitted to nurse him? I will do all I can to save him, 
please let me.” 

‘ ‘ That will be as the Doctor says, my little maid, 
said the nurse. 

Anna ran to see the doctor,. and received permission. 
One morning Joe looked up with astonishment and 
said, “0, you here? Is it you? Is it sure you, little 
gal?” ' • 

The next instant he was gone into senseless mum- 
bling. “Yes, yes, if she was here, I would tell her all — 
why. don’t she come? 0, if he could tell me something,” 
said Anna,, as she sobbed, with her face buried in his 
pillow. f‘I hope he will not die.” Patiently and lov- 
ingly she nursed him, hoping that his reason might 
return before he died. 

When the morning came, he opened his eyes and 
looked about the canvas of the tent. Turning his head, 
he saw Anna’s face, as she lay sleeping by his side, 
with one of her hands lying on his shoulder. Reason 
had returned. He looked again, afraid to speak, lest 
he . might break the spell. 

“Yes, she is here, I thought I dreamed it; yes, she 
is here ; thank God for that she zs here ! ” 

“Hello, old man, ain’t dead yet,^eh? You are bet- 
ter and brighter, to-day. That little nurse is bringing 
you to life, I reckon,” said the doctor, as he came in. 

“She-sh-sh! Doctor, be quiet. Don’t wake her. 
3ee her, am I dreaming. Doctor? Is this a dream?” 

“0, no, my man, she has been here for a week or 
more, watching over you like an angel of light. You 
know her?” 

“Doctor, why, didn’t you tell me?” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


155 


“We have told you, forty times, hut you refused to 
know her, or anything else. But, my good man, you 
must quit your foolishness and get well. Get on your 
feet again, like a good soldier, for your country. Do 
you know her, Joe? But another time will do for 
that. Good-bye, I fear I have talked to you more than 
I should have. Good-bye, do ever 3 d;hing your little 
nurse requires of you. She is a good one.” 

“Say, Doctor, tell the other nurse to come to me, 

I have something to tell her.” The nurse eame im- • 
mediately, the doctor having met her as he was retir 
ing from the tent. ' * 

“Good woman, you have been very kind to me, 
worked hard to keep me alive, but I am going to die, ' 
in spite of all of you, and that soon. I love you— you 
are so good to me, — tell me (don’t wake her) when did 
she come?” looking again at the calm sweet face a's ■ ■ 
she slept. ‘ ^ 

‘^Joe, she came several days ago, a «hort time after ■ 
you came.” . .. . . 

“I tell you nurse, she’s — -she’s a mighty — ^well, can ■ 
you keep a secret for a poor, sick, dying fellow?”- 
“0, certainly, yes, my man. • We keep secrete for 
everybody here. What is it you want, Joe?^’ ‘ ‘ / ■ 

“Weir now, turn me over, don’t wake her; there is a ■ 
little flag on me. I want it for her; then I will tell 
the poor child all the truth about the flag and how I • 
got it.” 

“Joe, I think we have your flag. Is this it?” show- • 
ing the flag. ' 

“G, yes, that is it; has she se'6n it yet?” 

“Yes, she looked it over. She knows where it 
came from, I think.” 

^‘O, poor little girl, you may wake her now.” 


156 LOVE TESTED IN THE 

my I Have I overslept? 0, Joe^ have you comfr 
to life? Cousin Joe, you will tell me where he is^ I 
knt)w you will.” She fell kneeling beside his bed,, 
beggii^ him to talk,, and tell her. 

“Yes^. my dear, I saw him-. I saw him' fall. He m 
dead.” 

She did hot move,, but remained on her knees gaz- 
ing at^ Joe. 

“Tell, me everything, Joe/ 1 can bear it all now,; 
tell it alL” 

“Yes, my dear. He was in the front line, and fell 
dying,, and — and,, I knew him,^ and,. I gathered him up, 
took him away,, then — then — I took the flag out if his 
hand. I saw your name on it, and I hid it and kept it. 
You can have it now. And this is his blood on it,, 
see? Take it now, my dear, forgive me, my little one,, 
that is all. I am so sorry for you my little gal. He was a 
brave lady he is killed, poo-r boy^” and Joe sank in a 
faint from the effort he had been making with Anna. 

She stood by watching him. Then came over her 
face a slight flushy mantling for an instant on her 
cheeks. Her eyes brightenedy she was looking stead- 
ily down into Joe/s face. She then reached and took 
hold of the man bj^ his shouldersy shook him, and her 
voice was as if shot out of a trumpet as she said — 

“Joe, Joel Did you kill him?” This brought him 
back to reason. She repeated, — “Joe! Did you. kill 
Dick?” “Oy no, nOy my dear. I did noty they did; 
yes, he is dead. ’ 

“What did you do with him? You say yon took 
him?” “When he was dead, I laid him down; then 
they shot me too; that is all, Anna.” Joe was gone 
into unconsciousness again. 

“I donT believe it. ife was never to be killed with 
a rebel bullet, I am going over this hill, to every ward 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


157 


and tent/’ Something had whispered to her, and a 
little star of hope had arisen in her sonl. 

When the other nurses came in she excused herself, 
saying she had other duties, and might be gone for 
a time. She seemed to forget her cousin Joe. She was, 
however, in and out, as her duties would permit, and 
for days, she traveled from ward to ward, scanning 
the faces of the living and the dead, whenever she had 
opportunity. But the hospital was large and she be- 
came discouraged, and almost dispaired of finding the 
dear one for whom she sought. 

Later, at the bedside of her cousin, the old doctor 
incidentally remarked about the shrewdness of a lit- 
tle Yankee Captain, over in ward number two. “There 
is something about him that is very interesting and 
something about his career, but that is none of my 
business. I will put him on his feet in a short time if 
I can, then I shall have a talk with him before I send 
him on, if I can.” Thus, the amiable doctor was ram- 
bling on in his talk, perfectly unconscious of the ef- 
fort Anna was making to be composed and attentive. 
Her very heart seemed as if it would lap out of her 
body. 

“Yes, Doctor, he must be rather an unusual char- 
acter. Do you know his name?” said Anna, with an 
effort. 

“Well, yes he is, though I know my patients only 
by numbers. Come over some day. Miss, and see him, 
I will introduce you to his highness. I am sure he will 
interest you. He is certainly game as a fighting roos- 
ter. While he is now a cripple for life, give him a 
chance, and there is plenty of good fighting in him.” 

“Yes, I should be very glad to see him. When could 
you have a little leisure, that we might see him. Doc- 
tor?” 


158 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


‘ ‘ This is my last round. I am going up now. Could 
you go along with me?” 

“Yes, I think I can go.” 

As they were going, she found herself at times in 
the lead, and the Doctor calling her attention to the 
correct line of tents. A nervous confusion possessed 
her, anxiety was consuming her, but the old Doctor, 
was apparently blind to anything unusual in her move- 
ments or confused actions. 

They walked into ward No. 2 and to a bed midway, 
where lay a small emaciated, pale-looking body, with 
closed eyes — ^nothing remarkable about him with his 
eyes closed, but when those large brown eyes opened 
and lit up, they seemed to illumine his face with a 
strange enchantment, especially if a smile accompanied 
the glance. Anna had seen him twice before in this 
same place, but failed to recognize him, as he was 
sleeping each time she saw him. But now she looked at 
him, as if frozen in her tracks. The doctor touched 
his forehead. Anna stepped back behind the Doctor. 
Dick opened his eyes. 

“Well, general, how are you by this time? One of 
our young lady helpers, from another ward, is here to 
see you. She doesn’t often get to see a real Yankee 
Captain. I reckon you a kind of a show, in this neck 
of the 'wood, anyhow.” 

Anna stepped out from behind the Doctor into full 
view. Captain Dick stared at her for a moment, then 
covered his eyes, speaking in low tones, as if to him- 
self — “No, no, it cannot be. I am dreaming again. 
No — it cannot be her; it can’t be my sweet little Anna. 
My mind is wandering again, too bad. I fear I’ll not 
get well.” 

“0, my Captain Dick. Don’t you know me?” 

Again he opened his eyes, looking at her tenderly; 


PIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


159 


his lips began quivering, he could not speak; again he 
covered his eyes. Anna went down beside his bed, and 
with her hands holding each side of his cheeks, kissed 
his lips, his cheeks and forehead. Despite her efforts at 
composure, her tears fell freely over his head and face. 
When he found his voice, he said, between his sobs, “0, 
you darling angel — my darling. Is this real? Anna, 
my darling, my darling!” 

His poor one thin arm went slowly around her. The 
old doctor appeared very much confused; he couldn’t 
figure things out, and couldn’t tell for the life of him 
whether he was laughing or crying. He made several 
attempts to say something, but failed each time, so 
giving his whiskers an extra pull or two, he passed 
out, wiping his eyes, satisfied that he couldn’t get any- 
thing out of himself, on the present occasion and that 
he was not needed by this patient. He walked on, stum- 
bled over a tent rope, turned and walked back, looked 
into the tbnt again, and finally said to a nurse, ‘‘Leave 
them alone; let there be no intrusion,” then passed 
to the next ward. 

CHAPTER XVH. 

THE KEBEL DOCTOK. 

Thus left to themselves, except other patients about 
them who took no interest whatever in their affairs, 
those hours might have been full of bliss for them, but 
for the thought that their secret might get out, and en- 
danger their lives, as they were now helplessly in the 
hands of the enemy. 

There was one consoling thought to them, that the 
battle of Shiloh had removed at least a part of their 
enemies, some of the most active in their former trou- 
bles, yet they were near the vicinity of their former 


160 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


jail tragedy. Anna said, soothingly, ‘‘Our relation 
must be kept a secret, but how to explain to that doc- 
tor who saw us meet, I do not know. It was my fault 
Dick. I just couldn’t help it. I couldn’t hold myself. 
I lost my head.” 

“Well,” said Dick, “I lost more than my head, I 
lost everything when I saw you, and I don’t care if 
you did lose your head; it was worth it. I have en- 
joyed the sweetest moment of my life. I would be 
willing to give my other arm, rather than have missed 
the joy and sweetness of this hour.” 

‘ ‘ Come, my dear,, you are very weak, and must not 
talk too much.” 

They were silent for a time, their cup of sorrow 
had been emptied and refilled with bliss that has no 
language of expression. Anna finally said, “What will 
the doctor think? What will he say? Will he send 
an officer to investigate? Will they arrest us together? 
We are in their hands.” 

“You say you are with Joe, in the other ward? 
Well, you go back to Joe, and say nothing, and they 
are welcome to all they get out of me. You see, if they 
find out who we are, they might arrest us as spies. 
Then my doom is sealed. You see, I can neither fight 
nor run, but am absolutely helpless.” 

“No, Dick. That will never be; I believe God 
will save you.” 

“Anna, you take Joe in hand, and don’t let him 
talk. You have managed him before, I believe.” And 
his face lit up with a smile of merriment. 

She ran away to see Joe; but poor Joe had lapsed 
into one of his spells of unconsciousness, and died that 
night. With Joe out of the way, they had a little more 
hope. Now the Doctor was the next to be dealt with. 
When the opportunity afforded, she ran over to Dick ’s 


FIEES OF THE SIXTIES 


161 


ward to tell him she was going to take the Doctor in 
hand and see what she could find out. 

‘‘Anna, you are a very wise little girl, but I am 
afraid of a move of that kind. He is no fool, if he 
don’t talk much. You see, if they find us out, you will 
suffer with me. I am so sorry for you ; you had bet- 
ter leave this place while you can. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Captain Dick, I will never do it ; if you go down, 
we will go down together.” 

“Then, you will not see the Doctor? I fear for you, 
if you do.” 

“Captain Richard Brown, I am going to disobey 
orders and do it,” said Anna. “When he was in our 
ward to-day, he looked as if he knew everything, and 
I am going to find out, and if he does, we have got 
to get out of this, or make him our friend.” 

“I am afraid you will stir up something Anna. 
But use your own good judgment; you are generally 
right in such things.” 

“Well, I know he is a good man; he prayed with 
the sick soldiers in our ward, and I saw him reading his 
Bible the other day, in his tent alone, and men who 
do that, are not mean men.” 

The next afternoon, she watched him as he went 
into his private tent, and was soon standing before 
him^ Her anxious heart was full; she could not keep 
back the tears, as she addressed him, and yet smiled 
as she said, “Good Doctor, have you a home some- 
where?” 

“Ye — yes. I have a home, and a family here in 
Tennessee.” 

“Have you some little girls at home to love you?” 

The Doctor looked up at her, in surprise, as he an- 
swered her, “No, honey. The good Lord took my lit- 
tle girl from me, a year ago to-day, and I just came 


162 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


in to write a word to her poor lonely mother.’’ 

‘‘Then, I am very sorry for you, 0 so sorry. I 
am sorry for the poor lonely mother too, there without 
her baby.” 

‘‘Well, well. Yes, thank you. Do you want some- 
thing with me, my little lady? Does some one want 
me?” 

“Yes, yes. Doctor, we, — I want to ask you a ques- 
tion, may I?” 

“Yes, certainly, certainly honey, any question you 
want. ” 

“Doctor, — I know you are a good man. I saw you 
with your Bible alone in your tent, and when you 
prayed so good for the dying soldiers, I was not afraid 
of you any more, because I knew you were a man of 
God. My mother and I are God’s children too. Now, 
I want you to tell me one thing, will you?” 

“My dear little girl, it might not be proper. You 
know these are serious times, though if it is a proper 
question, I will be pleased to answer you, if I can.” 

“Then, Doctor, do you know anything about Cap- 
tain Brown?” 

‘ ‘ Captain who ? 

“Brown, the little Yankee Captain down there?” 

“0, yes, I know now who you mean. I begin to 
see light.” 

The old Doctor turned away from his table, and 
looked out into space, as if in deep thought ; then turn- 
ed and looked into the sweet face of the girl before 
him; then away into space again, and then at the 
girl, who stood patiently waiting. Then he drew his 
hand across his forehead, as if in distress. 

“Honey, I wish you had not asked me that question. 
When I witnessed your first meeting, I was very much 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


163 


surprised, and my heart was almost broken for you, 
and for him/’ 

‘‘Well then, good Doctor, you need not answer far- 
ther. I know very well you know all, and I thank you 
for being so good and kind to me. I do not know what 
will come of us, but I will trust you, I know you are a 
good man.” 

“Now, my dear, I think I will tell you, though I 
suppose I should not do it. Yes, I have been informed 
of some things in the last ten days, and will say I am 
greatly surprised. They are revelations to me. I re- 
ceived first a letter, then a visit, concerning the Cap- 
tain. I am truly sorry, and if it were in my power, I 
would help you. But what I say now, must be kept 
in the strictest confidence, I never allow myself to do 
much talking about such things. Now my little girl, 
may I ask you a question? Were you not the girl who 
let the Captain out of the jail?” 

“Now, my good Doctor, if it wasn’t just you, I 
would not answer you, I would die first. Will you tell? 
No, you won’t; your good heart won’t let you.” 

The Doctor replied, “No, I will not; not for all 
the money in the Confederacy, I would not.” 

“I knew you would not. Yes, I let him out. You 
see, he was so good and brave, and he was mine, too, 
though he hadn’t said so then, but he is my Captain 
now, and- — and, — an — ” 

The rising storm of grief and sorrow had swept 
her voice into silent weeping. The old Doctor walked 
to the tent door and looked out for a moment, then re- 
turning to his table he took her hand as he said, “Now, 
my little maiden, I am going to tell you all there is to 
be told. You will sacredly keep it? Will you promise 
me?” 


164 LOVE TESTED IE THE 

‘‘Doctor, I will promise, and before I would betray 
your trust they would have to kill me.’’ 

“Well,, since I know who you are, I rather think 
they would.” 

“Yes, I would promise to do anything I could to 
save my Captain, and I believe you would help me 
if you could.” 

“ Yes, yes, my little dear, but we must not talk of 
that;, you can’t expect help of me in a matter like 
that. 

“Yes I do. Doctor, and I will get it too.” 

“Well, now, come now, my little one, you under- 
stand, one in my position must not talk but act. You 
see I received a letter or rather an order from my 
superior officer, concerning the Captain, giving a des- 
cription of one Richard Brown, Captain, in the Yankee 
army, asking if such a prisoner was here wounded. 
Then an officer came to identify him; the Captain was 
not able at that time to know what was going on. I 
requested them to allow me to keep him until he was 
able to travel, if he recovered. My request was grant- 
ed, we did not expect him to improve so rapidly, but 
his improvement has been remarkable. Your coming 
into his life again has been a great benefit to him ; in 
fact you have saved his life, perhaps I might say, you 
have saved his again. And to tell the truth, you 
have come into my life, in a way to make my duty 
very hard for me.” 

'“O,. how I wish I could help you, you are so good 
to me, I am sorry if I have caused you trouble. It 
seems as if every time I try to help some one in trou- 
ble, I get others into trouble.” 

“Never mind that now, little girl, be cheerful, and 
listen to what I say. I am going to tell you more. I 
have orders to-day, from the Surgeon General, to move 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


165 

fifty of my patients^ to Macon^ Oeorg ia, seleeting them 
according to the date’ of their arrival here. And there 
is no exception specified in the order, and when I 
arrive with them at Macon,, they pass my jurisdiction. 
I can list and pass the Captain and disobey no order. 
NoWy my little maiden,, do you understand meT’ 

She looked at him- for a moment with a question 
marky standing out on her face, then said, “Yesy I her 
lieve I do. 0 yes^ I do.” 

‘ ‘ I am afraid you do not, hut this is all I dare say 
to you,, and even this, were it known by my superiors^ 
would be bad for me. I would lose my position,, and 
be driven from the service Tn disgrace, though, God 
helping me, I will help you.” 

“0 Doctor, Doctor 1 My good Doctor, you are so 
good,, I love you.” 

“Just wait a moment, please;, do you understand? 
If you do, then quietly say so. And if not,, then I 
canT help you.” 

‘ ‘ D, yes, a thousand times, yes. I undersand, and I 
can work it too*, and I will. How can I thank you, or 
repay you?” 

“Then you may go, now.” 

“Just once more Doctor, please. Don’t you feel 
that your little girl is near you sometimes^, when you 
are in trouble?” 

“Yes, I have felt that, since this burden eame to 
us today. Why did you think of that? You may go 
now.” 

“Yes, I will go now. Your little girl is not here 
now to kiss you, but if you will let me, I will kiss you 
for her. Will you?” 

“Well, well, now; if you were a womian, I would 
order you from my tent, but since you are only a child,, 
you may. ’ ’ 


166 


LOYE TESTED IN THE 


She sprang to him with a bound, and made good her 
promise. The old Doctor bowed his head on the table 
and wept until his body shook with emotion. 

The next day the kind-hearted old doctor took up 
his rounds as usual, noting every particular change 
taking place with those in his charge. Sunday morn- 
ing, Captain Dick received orders with the others, to 
be ready to move at five o’clock, P. M. It had come at 
last; the plan' had been well laid, and if everything 
worked well, all might be well. Anna requested the 
privilege of going along to help care for those who 
might get sick on the way. The Doctor looked wise, 
and thought if might be best for her to stay where 
she was. But as she insisted, and suggested she might 
go part way, then take the next train back, he consent- 
ed. This was sufficient for her purpose. 

In due time the requisite number had been selected 
and placed on the train, and Dick, with the restj on 
their journey to Macon, Georgia. Night came on, and 
it was very dark. Anna gave Dick a small bundle to 
carry when they left the hospital. Anna went into 
the car where the Doctor was, and said, ‘‘Doctor, if 
you please, I will get off at the next town where my 
aunt is living, and visit her before I return. 

He readily consented, and proposed to help her from 
the train. She thanked him kindly, and said: “0, 
no, doctor, I can help myself, and must not trouble 
you again. I want to thank you for what you have 
done for me. I wish I could stay and help you care 
for these poor sick men. Can I help you again, when 
you get back?” He looked at her, as if he knew her 
scheme, doubtless he suspected there was scheming 
going on from the first, but his kind heart and sym- 
pathy with them, kept him from taking notice of any- 
thing but the official part of his business. 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


167 


‘‘No, my little maid, I think you had better not try 
to help me again, but go to your mother, and stay 
there. It may save you trouble. Anyway, hospitals and 
camps are not places for one like you; now, honey, 
take the advice of an old man, go home.” 

“Well, we are nearly to where I get off. Good-bye, 
doctor. I will pray for you, and I want you to pray 
for me. I hope to be good like you some day. 

“Yes, yes. Good-bye, little one, good-bye.” 

She sprang and kissed his cheek, and was gone so 
: quickly it surprised him very much, leaving him in a 
confused state of mind. He estimated her as an inno- 
cent child ; she was all of that, and more — a very wise 
little woman — when it came to laying out strategical 
plans. She seemed to have the acumen of a general, with 
the sagacity of a sage. When the train arrived at the 
station. Captain Dick stepped off, dressed in Anna’s 
clothing that had been given him in a package, and 
was supposed to be a young lady. Anna remained on 
the train until reaching the next following station. 
After leaving the train, she hurried to a carriage, in- 
structing the driver to take hei* to a good hotel. When 
she arrived at the hotel, and when stepping from, the 
carriage, she looked into a strange and yet familiar 
dusky face, which gave her a little alarm at first; but 
the face disappeared instantly. For a time she was 
left to -her thoughts, mystified and troubled. She 
finally remembered and thought, “Is it possible that 
the ‘crazy nigger’ could be down here? That was cer- 
tainly his face. This world is all a strange mystery, so 
many curious things happen; but then it is all God’s 
world, and I am His, too, so I will rest.” These were her 
thoughts as she sat on the veranda of the hotel. 

She went to her room, and to the window, and there 
in the light of a beautiful silver moon, for the clouds 


16B 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


had disappeared, she let her mind go to mother, to 
her sweetheart, and to poor Joe; to the good doctor, 
and what would he do. “And where will I go next? 
But I am here, and God knows all about it and I will 
trust Him and take my rest. While she was forcing 
this resolution into execution, there was a slight rust- 
ling below the window. Looking over the window sill, 
she saw the form of a man. She was not alarmed, be- 
ing always ready for emergencies. 

“Dis am dat niggah Pomp, Miss Anna,” plainly and 
distinctly uttered in a loud whisper. “He hep jo’ if 
yo ’ need him, dis am Pomp, dat crazy niggah. ’ ’ 

^‘Why, Pomp, what are you doing herel” 

“I’s hepin’ at de stables. Duz yo" want a hoss?” 
“There, that is a good idea, a horse and a ride to- 
morrow. I will let you know ; come again in the morn- 
iug. Go now. Pomp.” 

It seemed that her guardian angel was hovering 
about her. “Though I really do not see wher^ I can 
go; I can’t go home. No, 1 dare not do that. After 
they discover that Captain Dick has escaped, and my 
leaving fhe train also, they will surmise the truth, and 
send out a detachment to capture us, and connect me 
with the escape. Well, I shall do my part, and see that 
they don’t do it. I will trust Dick to do his part, too. 
I am truly sorry for the old doctor, I do hope he won’t 
get into trouble, for I really think he suspected us, and 
didn’t care if we did get away, and the next few hours 
will decide whether we get away or not. But I am 
really uneasy about the good doctor. I am ^uTt he 
wanted me to understand^ and I got it through my dull 
pate at last.” 

. These were some of her thoughts spoken out aloud 
to herself; she could think more clearly talking. “My, 
how I wish I knew what to do! I can’t think it out 


FIRES OF fHE SIXTIES 


16 ^ 

now, I am' too tirOd. To-morrow there will be a way, 
and I will gee it, for the one who is guiding me will 
show it to liie.” Turning to her bed, she bowed in 
prayer for wisdoni. She didn’t say, “Now I lay me,^’ 
but had a long and earnest talk with God. The talk 
relieved the tension, and she fell into a sweet sleep, 
and slept as a babe that knew no trouble, until the 
morning sunlight threw a golden belt across her calm 
and quiet face. 

“My, have I overslept! Anyhow, I am rested, and 
now I will kneel and thank God for my sweet sleep 
and rest.” 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

CAPTAIN DICK^S VISIT TO MOTHEB. 

Captain Richard Brown, after leaving the train, 
found his way according to directions given by his 
sweetheart, to the cottage of the aunt, a small cottage 
in the suburbs of a small town in Georgia. He soon 
removed his cumbersome disguise, and succeeded in 
convincing his newly found friends of his identity. 
They had heard of him, but had not met him. He was 
able to secure all help possible from them. Though 
weak and weary from the exertions made to reach 
them, he dared not tarry so near the station he had 
just left. He was provided with an easy riding horse 
and taken to a resting place, where kind and willing 
hands administered to his every necessity, and from 
there assisted to his own mother’s door. It was a dan- 
gerous move for him in his weakened condition. Had 
he been stronger, he might not have taken so great a 
risk; his good judgment would have suggested too 
much danger. 


170 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“0, my son, my darling boy! The dead is alive, 
the lost is found!” his mother exclaimed as she took 
him in her arms. She had heard of his valor on the 
battle-field, and of his death ; but had never hoped to 
see him again. He briefly related to . her some of his 
experiences, while she ministered refreshments to him. 
Then she stood gazing at him as if stricken to the heart. 

‘'Well, my child, you can’t stay here; they will be 
after you, as sure as you live, and you do not look as if 
you .were much more than alive now. ’ ’ She went to a 
closet and brought out a neAV home-spun suit for him, 
and assisted him to get into it. She held the coat for 
him, observing with pride the neatness of the fit she 
had made by guess. When she saw the empty sleeve, 
the son observed her trembling lips, and knew her 
grief. 

He said bravely: “Never mind. Mother, I would 
give another arm, if it would bring the old flag back 
to Tennessee ; if it would give our people their liberty. 
But we are going to do it^ Mother, and you will live 
to see it yet.” 

“Yes, my son ; but it is costing us a very great price. 
Your father killed, and see what you have lost.” 

“Well, Mother, somebody had to do it; somebody 
had to lose. ” 

“Lindy, you go and tell Uncle Dan to come down; 
there is somebody wants to see him.” 

Dick gave a start at the mention of Uncle Dan’s 
name, and looked at his mother with surprise. 

“Why, Mother, Uncle Dan isn’t here and alive, is 
he?” 

“Yes, my boy. Uncle Dan is in the garret; he is 
waiting for a company to pilot them to the North; 
this will be his third trip since he came back,/’ 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


171 


“I shall be mighty glad to see that old soul again. 
We thought he died where we left him sick, in the 
mountains. Now I will go with him, and be with my 
company again.” 

“But, Richard, was not your company captured and 
killed, when you were ki^ — taken prisoner ? ” 

“I know nothing, mother; they were" there when I 
was shot, and left for dead on the field. I was taken 
away by somebody, and I never knew what became of 
them. 0, mother,, where is Anna ? where is Anna ? ’ ’ 

“Anna? Well, my son, poor little Anna got it into 
her head that she ought to go to the rebel hospital and 
nurse the sick, and after she had gone, they sent for 
her to come and nurse Joe Cunningham, the jailer, 
and^ — ” 

“0, yes, mother, dear, I am crazy; I am dreaming 
again ; I know all about it, but I am so tired, I believe 
my mind is wandering. Let me rest and I will be better 
to-morrow. Yes, Mother, I will tell you all about her 
to-morrow. Poor little Anna, I wonder where she is? 
But I must rest. ’ ’ 

The mother assisted the sick boy to the stairs. There 
he fell into the arms of his old faithful servant. Uncle 
Pan, who carried him to the garret, as if he were a 
baby, and there faithfully watched over him, ready to 
an&wer any call that might come at any time in the 
night. 

“My po’ liU boy, seem lik de chilins all mixt up in 
dis ting; ’taint no place fo’ chilins, nohow. This one, 
he fit lik’ a tigah, an got he arm off; an’ I ’spect he 
Ked kum off next. Don’ no what we kumin’ tu, reckon 
I take ker ob’ dis chile til’ Gabel bio dat trumpet, den 
I git dar mity quick. Den dis ole niggah talk ’bout one 
hunerd yea’s, an tell de Massa Lawd Jesus ’bout de 


172 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


trubl ob’ dese po’ sinnah’s down heah on dis mundane 
spere ; yes, ,sab, reekon I wall, sab/’ 

Captain Dick regained bis .strengtb rapidly under 
itbe vigalant care of bis old black servant;, and (tbe magic 
touch of a mother’s hand. Soon, ah, too soon, at night 
tkae, there came a soft, light rap on the outside door. 
The mother earefuillj approached the door, nnd un- 
locked it. A gentle for^ce from without pressed it 
.ajar, not more than three inches. A black band thrust 
A small bit of paper through the opening. Some oone 
on the outside whispered the one word, ‘ ‘Pomp, ’ ’ and 
disappeared. Mrs. ‘Brown opened the paper and read : 

0, m,y Captain, fly tor your life. They have found 
us out ; they know now that you are the eame they eon- 
demned to hang; they think yo-u are at home, and so 
do I. You must fly for your life. I learned their plans 
to-night. Tell mother I am safe, ^y Captain trust in 
God. He will save us yet. ANNA. 

Mrs. Brown hurried to the garret with tbe message. 

“My boy, my boyJ You and Uncle Dan must , go 
immediately. Xiook here.” Bhe handed him the note. 
He read it over slowly, then again, and drew a long 
breath, saying : 

“Mother, dear, she has. saved ns again; bless her 
little heart 0, I tell you, mother, Anna is a jewel, 
isn’t she?” 

“Bhe seems an angel, sent of God, mj son,” replied 
the mother. 

“What dat yo’ got now., Massa Dick? What kum 
next ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Uncle Dan, -this is a note from Anna, telling ns 
the rebels are after us again. We have to move ; they 
suspect our hiding here.” 

“Who fetched dat lettah, Massa Dick ? ” 


fires of the sixties 


173 


‘‘We don’t know, Dan, the letter was handed to 
mother at the door, she saw only the hand that passed 
it in.” 

“Wnz dat han a hlak han, Missns -Brown?'” 

“Yes, Dan, it was black.” 

‘ ‘ Didn ’t da sa nnthin. Missus Brown ? ’ ’ 

^‘Yes, come to think of it, he said just one word. 
What was that word? I 'was so frightened I forgot 
what it was. 0, what was it now? Well, I really for- 
get.” 

“Yo’ see. Missus Brown, dat wud am de’ key ter de 
situation, an wid outen it, we am in de dark.’’ ’ 

“0, I have it now; there can he nothing in it; it 
was only the one word, ‘Pomp.’ ” 

“There,” exclaimed Dick, “That is the key; it was 
the ‘ crazy nigger, ’ Pomp. ’ ’ 

“Yes, sah, dat am de key, sah. De Lawd hies dat 
black niggah. Pomp. Dat black niggah got mo’ lives 
den a kat; he dun bin killed fo’ five times afo’ an he’s 
livin ’ yit. W hat dat niggah turn up next de Lawd on’y 
noes.” 

“He is a brave fellow. I will buy his freedom some 
day, if I live, and give it to him for a Christmas 
present. ’ ’ 

“Yes, sah, yo’ needn’t bodder yo’ little noggin bout 
dat bizness. De good God-o-mity he dun tend ter dat. 
De — de yeah ob jublee am kumin’, yes, sah, reckon he 
will, sah. Yes, sah, he do dat hisself.” (Aside, as if 
to himself.) “Yes, sah, de^eah ob jublee am a comm 
sho’s yo bon.” 

“Say, Dan, if it does not come to you and Pomp, I 
will make — ” 

“Say, boy, what yo’ setin’ ’round heah fo’, phosifi- 
zen, when dem rebs am a kumin ’ on yo ’ trak like coon 


174 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


dogs? Da tak de bed offen yo,’ boy, quicker ’n skat, da 
koch yo’, sah.” , 

‘‘You are right. Uncle Dan. You are nearly always 
right ; if they get us, what will become of you ? ’ ’ 

“Dat mak no ods, Capting Dick, what da do wid’ 
dis ole man. He nuthin ’ but ole niggah, nohow, an — an 
e^eybody soon furgit it, an. dat am de’ last ob’ him. 
Yes, sah, reckon dat be de way.” 

“This is the best we can do for you now, son,” said 
Mrs. Brown, as she handed a small basket to Dan. It 
will keep you from starving, at least for a day or two; 
then you may meet one of God’s ravens with a morsel 
to help you on farther. ’ ’ 

“Missus Brown, dem critters am mighty skase up 
dar in dem big mountings. I ben dar, I reckon; hain’t 
seen no ravens fur rite smart bit, da all crows, an — 
an— ete everting dem se’ves.” 

A loving tender ■ embrace of mother and son, and 
another good-bye, and Dick stepped out into the dark 
night, with a mother’s warm kiss of love on his lips. 
Yes, into the dark, but the darkness that mantled him 
and the trees about were not so heavy as that which 
hung over his heart. 

Their first arrangement was to go to Castle Rock, 
but the negro suggested that if they came to the home 
and failed to find them there, they would go to the 
cave next. So, without delay, they hastened on, and 
for two hours, the longest hours of Dick’s life, as it 
seemed to him, after resting, they toiled on again to 
reach the old trail, that had held the bloody print of 
many a. broken foot. They didn’t know what moment 
the enemy might challenge them in the dark, but Dan 
knew every foot of the way, and they were armed with 
as many shooting irons as they could handle to ad- 
vantage. They understood that neither of them dared 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


175 


to be captured, and had resolved to die together, rather 
than be taken again. 

Captain Dick became exhausted finally, and could 
go no farther. The old colored man realized that he 
must get his master to shelter, and took him on his 
back, and carried him for some time. 

“Now, Massa Dick, yo’ ^et dar tiF I kum back.” 

“Where are you going, Dan?” 

“Don’ mak no difenc wha I’s gwine, yo’ set dar til’ 
I kum back^ sah.” 

And without delay he was gone, and^ for a long 
time Dick waited. As the day was breaking Dan came 
hustling back, with a large smile on his face. He had 
found a refuge for his sick boy. . 

“Now, kum wid me, do’n be aferd, yo’ git a wame 
bed, an sum goodies ter ete; den yo’ git sum res’, den 
yo’ fele bettah, sah.” 

Dan had found' a negro cabin, the door opened for 
them, and an old auntie gave them such a welcome that 
Dick felt as if he was again favor/ed with a divine prov- 
idence. The old black woman went trudging around 
arranging for their comfort, talking all the while to 
Dick, telling him what she had heard about him. 

“I’ve hern ’bout yo’, but nevah seed yo’ befo’. I 
nevah node yo ’ wuz sich a lil ’ feller. I hern o’ yo ’ so 
mighty site, I tought yo’ wuz sum big man, wid a big 
swode, jis a cutin’ de federcy in too in de mi die.” Then 
she would stop before him, with her arms akimbo, and 
say, “Well, I’se ’sprised ter see what yo’ is. Wondah 
if 3^0 ’ dun all dem tings da tell ’bout yo’?” 

She contiued her prattle until the breakfast was 
ready. After they had finished eating, Dan said they 
must go. Passing out back of the cabin, and into the 
woods, and on up through the thick brush to a cave, 
beneath an overhanging rock, Dan entered through a 


176 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


narrow passway to a large dry room, where they found 
a nice warm bed. Dan had been there before. The 
Captain was put to bed. 

‘‘Now, honey, da is no danga, yo’ kan res’ an’ sleep, 
an fo’ de Lawd sake git well, whil we ete dat stuff yo’ 
mama sent in de lil’ basket dar. ” 

“Uncle Dan, you are a great general. This is a 
God-send; I was all gone to pieces, and was thinking 
I might be caught yet.” 

“Yea, reckon I is; reckon yo’ wuz ’bout gon ter 
pieces, one piece am gon’ sho’s yo’ bon’, Capting. Yo’ 
lose few mo’ an yo’ won’t be wuth foolin’ wid. Now, 
Massa Dick, yo’ sta heah fo’ five six da’s, till yo’ git 
stout agin, an — an dis niggah, he watch dat hole fo’ 
yo’, an — an keep dem secesh varments out. Da do’n no 
nuthin’ ’bout dis place. I ben hah fo’ seven six tims, 
when I go Noth wid de fo’ks.” 

The Captain went to sleep and slept all the day, and 
the following night, with but little intermission for 
meals. Thus cared for, with abundant supplies, they 
remained for several days, until Uncle Dan could not 
keep his precious charge in duress longer. He wanted 
to get out and see what was going on in the world. 
The old negro begged his master to remain with his 
warm bed yet for a time, but Dick became unmanage- 
able, and prepared to go. The good old auntie gave 
them a good supply of food to help keep them from 
starving. The time had come when persons not know- 
ing the country would suffer with hunger as people 
passing through — so many of them — had eaten the 
country out. They pushed on northward as fast as 
possible. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


177 


CHAPTER XIX. 

ANNANS SECOND EACE FOE LIFE. 

‘‘Take this note to Mr. Anderson, the liveryman,’’ 
said Anna, as the bright morning sun came up over the 
hills so gloriously that eventful day. After the ride 
on the train the night before, she had slept, resting 
body and mind, and was able to think. Her first de- 
sign was to take a horse, and ride out from the vicinity 
of the town, and then send the horse back by the ser- 
vant, and take a tramp over the hills that she might 
get away from people, so as to attract as little attention 
as possible. She had no definite plan mapped out yet 
as to what she would do, but her idea was to get as 
far away as possible from the recent new danger that 
had come to her. The note to the liveryman read: 

My health is improving, and I desire to ride in the 
country for a few hours this morning, and get the sun- 
shine. Please send your best roadster, and a good lively 
fellow, and I will want a servant to attend me and 
assist me in case of accident. Leave bill at hotel, I will 
care for it. 

Yours respectfully, 

MISS MARY STOCK. 

The excellent roadster stood waiting, and Pomp, the 
livery servant, with another horse for himself. Anna 
was pleased with the excellent roadster sent her. When 
seated in the saddle, she felt at home again, and in her 
native element; she was an expert with a good saddle- 
horse. 

“Say you; you colored man! Are you to accom- 
pany me ? ” 

“Yea, yesum, reckon I is, mum,” said Pomp. 

“Then be lively there, and keep up, you look too 
lazy to breathe. ’ ’ 


178 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


^‘Yes-um, I is.” 

This was for the onlookers, who seemed interested 
in the young woman’s horsemanship on a fiery stead. 
They had ‘‘nevah seed the like befo’, in this neck-o- 
woods, I reckon.” 

Pomp found it a hard job to hold his own, and 
keep up to the regulation distance of a servant. Five 
miles out, she drew rein, and motioned for the servant 
to' come up by her side. 

‘‘Now, Pomp', after we ride about five miles farther, 
I am going to let you go back with the horses; I am 
not going back. Do you understand meT'’ 

“Yesum, reckon I duz, mum.” 

“Say, Pomp, I want you to keep up, I want to talk 
to you. Now, you must tell me everything you know, 
and when you take the horses back, don’t tell them 
anything you know about me, or anyone else, of our 
people. Do you understand? -How came you to be at 
the town over there? Tell me, quickly, I haven’t time 
to wait on you to get ready; talk up lively now.” 

“Yesum, reckon I will. Well, well, I — I — wuz, 
an — ” 

“Pomp, why don’t you tell me? Can’t you talk?” 

“Yesum, I tought da kill Massa Dick, an — an 1 slip 
ovah dar in de night; I cuden’ fine him; da tuk him oif 
I reckon da did.” 

“Pomp, where did you look for him? on the battle- 
field?” 

“Yesum, den I f oiler dem rebs what tuk him, an I 
los him, an bin huntin ’ fur him all de tim. I do ’n blev 
he wuz killed.” 

“Come on. Pomp, keep up. Come up by the side 
of me, and tell all.” 

“Yesum, reckon I do.” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


179 


^‘Now, Pomp, keep up. Where is Uncle Dan? Do 
you know?’’ 

‘‘Do’n no, mam, reckon he down dar heppin’ de 
peple cros de mountings, dem mountings da am hard 
crosin’, mum.” 

“When did you see him last? Keep up, whip that 
horse. When did you say you saw him last?” 

“ ’Bout week bak, fo’ fiv six days, reckon, mum.” 

“Where was he then?” 

“Down dar jis lookin’ roun’ fur sumbody ter dim 
de mountings.” 

“Pomp, I believe you have lied to me. You have 
got to tell me the truth now, do you see that? (uncov- 
ering the silver mounted revolver). What were you 
away over here in this town for ? ’ ’ 

“Well, I tell, Misse. Dat solger ovah dar, he say 
he wif liv dar by dat town, an — an he w^nt lettah, an — 
an — I wuk at stable whil de Missus gethah de lettahs 
fur me, dat an sho de truf . ’ ’ 

“Well, now. Pomp, you are a good boy. I am sorry 
I was cross to you. Forgive me, Pompj I didn’t under- 
stand you. We will stop here, and you may take the 
horses back. I will bid you good-bye. You need not 
look for Captain Dick. He is not there now. You’d 
better take this money for the liveryman, and this you 
can keep for yourself (handing him a quarter). 

“Yesum, yesum, I — I — reckon I — ” 

She was standing on the ground, placing the bridle 
reins in his hand. The negro was twisting his face, roll' 
ing his eyes frightfully. She was not afraid of him, 
she had known him to be an eccentric mortal,’ that no 
one had ever pretended to know or understand. She 
asked him, “What is the trouble with you? What is 
the matter with you, Pomp? Why do you act so 
queer ? ” 


180 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 

‘‘Missus, won yo’ let dis po’ niggah go wid yo? 
He hep yo’.” 

“What, then, could we do with the horses?” 

“Jis ride on em, den turn em lose; da go back, an 
rite Massa Andeson lettah, tel him de bosses am a 
kumin’. Pomp he ker fo’ de hoss bizness. I git de 
bosses dar, miss.” ' 

A new idea had dawned upon her. She reflected. 
“Pomp knows a few things if he is a fool. I believe I 
will ride farther; he is so true and faithful, and will 
do as he says he will. ’ ’ 

“Pomp, we will ride on yet awhile if you will get 
the horses back for me, though you had better not go 
back until to-morrow. ’ ’ 

“Yesum, reckon I git em bak when I kin git dar 
wid um, mum.” 

After riding on until the evening was drawing near, 
she saw a nice-looking home and thought to inquire for 
lodging. “There is a nice place. I wonder if the gen- 
tleman will keep us over night? It is getting so late, 
you could not get the horses in to-night, anyway, so 
we will see. Now, Pomp, you rise early in the morning 
and get these horses back to Mr. Anderson. I fear he 
will think we are horse thieves if we don’t get them 
back soon.” 

Anna had instructed Pomp to keep watch for any- 
thing that did not look right, and let her know. She 
knew Pomp’s reputation for faithfulness, and trusted 
him to the limit. When Pomp was a friend, he would 
give his life for that friendship, if necessary. After 
everything about the place became quiet, Anna saw 
from her window ten cavalrymen ride up and call the 
proprietor, and request lodging for the night. Per- 
mission being granted, they were soon settled in council 
on the porch just beneath her window. Pomp lay near 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


181 


by them, snoring as if in a deep sleep, and unnoticed 
by them, until they were on the eve of retiring for the 
night, and one of them stumbled over him. 

“Hello, here, what’s this? Who’s nigger are you? 
What are you doing here, you black rascal ? ’ ’ 

When the lantern lit up 'his face, and seeing his 
contortions, they were disposed to let him have all the 
room he wanted, and promptly backed oif and away. 

“Look at him! He’s some fool critter fooling round 
here; he is crazy. Look, seel he’s a fool. The old man 
has him round here for a dog ; kick him out. Bill. ’ ’ 

“No, sir. If you want him kicked out, do it your- 
self. I am not going near him; he might be the very 
old devil himself, and I have too much respect for my 
superiors. ’ ’ 

After the excitement was over and the men had re- 
tired, Pomp qijietly crawled out on tq the roof of the 
balcony, just beneath Anna’s window. She had not 
yet retired, and she knew her faithful servant would 
report, if anything had been heard from the men. How- 
ever, she had heard the conversation about the old 
man’s dog. A gentle rap, and a little tap-tap twice 
repeated on the window-sill. She lifted the window 
sash. , 

“Pomp, is that you?” 

“Yessum.” 

“What do you want. Pomp?” 

“0, Miss Anna, hoi’ yo’ hed down heah closah. Dem 
rebs da dun found de place ob’ Uncle Dan an Massa 
Dick, an da gwine ter-morre’ ter kil ’em bof, ded or 
live, da dun fin’ out da don’ hang him, dat time in 
de jail, an — an — da gwine ter git Missus Brown an 
dat gal, an I speck dat am yo’sef. Yesum, da gwine in 
de mornin’.” 


182 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘Well, Pomp, you are a jewel of a fellow.” 

“Yes, um, reckon I is, den what am yo’, yo’sef?” 

“Now, Pomp, you slip out to the barn, get a horse, 
the best one. You had better take mine; he is the 
swiftest on a long run. You let him out, get the horse 
ready, then come to me and get a note, and you go to 
Captain Dick, Mrs. Brown or Uncle Dan and give it to 
them. You get it to them, at the risk of your life. 
Now, my good hoy, will you he sure and do as I say?” 

“Yesum, reckon I will, if dis niggah liv, he go dar 
mity pert, I reckon, mum, an— an — if he di’ he won’t 
kum bak no mo’.” 

‘ ‘ Say, Pomp, you listen to me, while I tell you again 
what to do.” 

“Yesum, I duz, I heah yo’, honey.” 

“When you deliver this note, you must not come 
back to me. I will not be here, I am going where you 
can’t come. You get that horse, you ride back to Mr. 
Anderson, if you can. Be careful and not let these 
soldiers see you coming back to-mOrrow. As they are 
going there, they might recognize you, and do you 
harm. Now, Pomp, do you understand all I have told 
you?” 

“Yesum, reckon I duz, mum.” 

After Pomp was gone, and the sound of his horse’s 
feet had died away, Anna fell on her knees to thank 
God for His goodness. “I know now why I came this 
way, when I didn’t know where I was going. God 
was leading and I only followed,” said Anna to her- 
self, as she was preparing to retire. After long waiting 
and thinking, she fell asleep. When morning came, 
the men were out early, and on to their horses, and off 
for the prize. As she saw them riding away, how 
thankful she was that they were doomed to disappoint- 
ment. She knew the “crazy nigger” would do his 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


183 


part, or kill himself in the effort. The men seemed (to 
her infinite delight) utterly unconscious of her pres- 
ence in the house. 

Some time after their departure, she called for her 
servant and horses, that she might continue her jour- 
ney. The host informed her that the servant was miss- 
ing, and could not be found on the plantation; also 
one of her horses was gone. She feigned astonishment, 
and said: ‘‘My good sir, do you think those soldiers 
will keep my servant and horse, sir?” 

“My little lady, I am sorry for your loss. I cer- 
tainly think our men would not have taken them had 
they known that they were the property of a lady.’” 

“Will they return this way, and will they return 
my property?” 

“Well, yes, they may, for they expect to return to- 
night.” 

“Then, sir, if you will order my other horse, I will 
be riding, and I may meet them, I must regain my 
trusty servant.” 

“My good lady, they are on a special mission, for 
a special purpose, and doubtless felt the need of your 
servant and horse. I take them to be brave and gallant 
gentlemen, who will doubtless return your property, 
if you would remain until they return, and I will ex- 
plain for you.” 

“You are very kind, sir, and they might do so, but 
I will take my horse, and if I meet them, I can ex- 
plain, and if they are the gallant gentlemen you repre- 
sent them to be, I m.ay obtain my property.” 

“I hope, madam, you do not think of following 
them ?” 

“If you ^please, sir, what was their special mission 
did you say?” 


184 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘They are after a condemned criminal, who was 
tried for treason, and being a spy, he was condemned 
to he hung, and escaped. He is reported as being now 
about his old haunts again. They will doubtless cap- 
ture him to-day, as his hiding place has been discov- 
ered.’’ 

“This must be rather an interesting case to our 
Confederate people.” 

“Yes, he is certainly an interesting character. I 
hope they may get him. I am informed, though, he is 
quite young and smart, and has given our people much 
anxiety. You must have heard of him.” 

“Yes, since you have referred to his remarkable 
career, I think I have. Do you remember the name?” 

‘ ‘ I think the name is Brown. He is sometimes called 
Captain Brown. He is reported to be a daring scape- 
grace, with a^ shrewd, keen and quick conception. He 
is a dangerous character, with a gallant bravery worthy 
of a better cause.” 

“Sir, you have interested me very much in this 
brave and daring young scape-grace. I should be very 
much pleased to see him. Then you think they will 
surely bring him in this way to-night. But I think I 
shall not wait, and if you will kindly retain my horse 
and servant when they return with them, I shall be 
under lasting obligations to you, sir.” 

“Any favor that I can confer upon you under these 
unfortunate circumstances, will be done graciously; 
and you will call, or send for them?” 

“Yes, sir, at my convenience. You will do me the 
favor to keep them until I do.” 

Being now assisted into the saddle, she bade adieu 
to her host. She dared not go to her home, as she well 
knew that when the facts were known as to the part 
she had taken in this escape of the little Captain, she 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


185 


would be in danger again. She was undecided as to 
what course to take. She rode slowly on in the oppo- 
site direction taken when leaving her recent host, who 
had kindly directed her as to how she should go to 
reach a certain place she had inquired for. Her mind 
was reviewing the recent events — how they had plan- 
ned for Dick to escape; the hospital; the train; her 
leaving the train ; and the things the old doctor knew ; 
her departure with the negro and the horses; her 

lodging over night with Mr. ; sending Pomp 

away; then leaving her host and going somewhere. 
These thoughts came trooping through her mind, and 
they were anything but consoling. Thus far, she had 
planned with but one object in view, never thinking 
what might happen to herself. But now she is re- 
minded that she must look out for herself, which was 
the problem of the present. She remembered the many 
times, when she had reached the limit of every resource 
and had been intercepted by what seemed to her as 
providential interpositions in answer to her prayers. 
“Well, this is the limit, and I will trust God again,” 
said she finally, and settled back in the saddle, and 
gave the horse a sharp cut with the whip, and a free 
rein, and was soon under the branches of the great 
trees that formed an arch over the highway. 

“This is God’s archway, it is beautiful! See the 
red thorn, the purple leaves! 0, that mother-bird 
feeding her little ones! Yes, not even one of these 
fall to the ground without the Father’s notice. Neither 
will I. I will trust him. Jesus is my friend, and now 
He will have a fair chance to help me. I just know 
He will do it.” 

The detachment failed to find the criminal, as the 
reader knows, or anyone else that they were sent to 
get, and stopped again at their previous lodging place. 


186 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


They presented their host with a printed description 
of their quest, which he read carefully and slowly. He 
seemed to be eating the very words. After reading it, 
he sat down pale and agitated, then his face flushed. 

‘‘Gentlemen, do you know you were lodging with 
one of these very parties in this house last night ? The 
girl you are looking for, and the horse and nigger you 
took were here.” 

“Sir, we took no horse nor nigger from this place.” 

“You declare you did not take her horse, or the 
nigger, either? Then that infernal nigger you kicked 
off the porch was, in the plot, and the girl sent a mes- 
sage by him to that criminal, and he escaped you. Yes, 
it is all plain now. Yes, gentlemen, we have been ig- 
nominously foiled by that little insignificant shrew!” 

The cavalrymen looked at him with amazement. 
The younger of the men were rather disposed to take 
it as a joke on their Captain. The young and chival- 
rous of the company admired the splendid achieve- 
ments of the young lady, friend -or foe. 

“Yes, young gentlemen, you may think it a joke, 
and admire the little shrimp, but if I catch her, I shall 
give the wench a lesson in the discipline of war that 
may satisfy her,” said the Captain. 

“Well, Captain,” said one. “You will catch her 
first, won’t you? I reckon.” We think from the descrip- 
tion we have of her, you will be very gentle in your 
discipline with one so young and chivalrous, friend or 
foe; she is worthy of considerate treatment, even 
though an enemy. It was evident that had she been 
caught she would have had friends, even among her 
enemies. The reading of the printed notices was as 
follows : 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


187 


NOTICE ! $1,000 REWARD. 

THE CAPTURE AND RETENTION OF PERSONS 
DESCRIBED IN THIS NOTICE. 

One, Captain Dick Brown (Spy). Light weight. 
Under twenty years. One arm oil. Large eyes, rather 
dark and bright ; five feet four in. Has been quite 
sick recently. 

Young girl, quite young, and rather good-looking. 
Byes dark, also hair dark and curly. Last seen leaving 
Railroad Hospital train, on Georgia & Tennessee Line, 
Sunday night last, at station. 

Negro. Large, 180-lbs. 30 or 40 years of age. Dan- 
gerous character. 

Negro boy. Strange acting. Perhaps crazy, roam- 
ing the woods. 

For the capture and retention of any of these per- 
sons, a reward as stated above, will be given. Any per- 
son aiding in the capture of these persons, will confer 
a favor in the interest of their country. Any person, 
aiding or abetting in the assistance of the above to es- 
cape, will be punished to the limit of the law. 

(Signed) 

Gen’l Commanding. 

The honorable host was now raging in his wrath. 
His consuming anger was equaled only by his humilia- 
tion. 

‘‘To be so ingloriously duped by a little insignifi- 
cant chit, with a pretty face. Now, as I think of it, 
her deliberate poise as she questioned me in detail, 
drawing from me everything I knew about the case. 
She said she was very much interested in the case. And 
I, fool-like, told, her everything I knew. And, great 
heavens! gentlemen, I suppose if she had been here 
until now, I would have still been pouring out my in- 
formation for her benefit. Gentlemen, I have never 
felt so small and humiliated.” 


188 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘0, well, Colonel, don’t mind it. We know you are 
loyal; it was only a mistake, or rather a joke on you.” 

‘‘Well, sir, I would rather such jokes were perpe- 
trated on people who could appreciate them. I cer- 
tainly do not.” 

“We will follow up the trail of this little diplo- 
matic deceiver, if you can give us the probable course 
she took, and the roads, directions, etc., that may assist 
us.” 

They were soon in the saddles, hut unfortunately 
for their success, they took the wrong direction. She 
had, after getting out of the sight of her host, changed 
her course, thereby deceiving her pursuers, though 
unconscious of being pursued. They had no thought, 
of her going toward Cumberland Gap, as there was a 
large force of their own army at that point. There- 
fore, they lost valuable time, in mistaking directions. 
Still, they were jubilant over the probable capture of 
the fleeing bird. They wanted to see her, because of 
the reputation she had achieved as a liberator, she 
having planned and carried out schemes that freed her 
sweetheart twice, when sure death was pending each 
time. 

CHAPTER XX. 
dick's friendly shelter. 

Captain Dick and his faithful servant, Dan, walking 
Northward, did not go far until they fell in with Union 
scouts, some of whom knew the Captain, and having 
learned something of his history before, were only too 
glad to render every assistance possible. Two of these 
scouts recognized the old negro as a benefactor to them 
at a time when they were in trouble, and were warm 
friends to Uncle Dan. 


FIRES pP THE SIXTIES 189 

A 

Realizing that the young Captain was weak and 
unable to travel, and would never be able for army 
service again, they insisted that he get some secluded 
place, out of danger, and rest until his health could be 
restored. Dick thought there was no place in the 
country that would be perfectly safe for him, as there 
was now a reward for him, dead or alive, and he would 
prefer reaching the Northern army for safety. “If I 
could only have my company back again, ’ ’ he cried, ‘ ‘ I 
would be willing to die with them.” 

“His little company had been annihilated by death 
and imprisonment. His grief was so great that the 
men looked on with pity. They promisM, if he would 
allow them to conduct him to a place they would select, 
that they would see that he was comfortable and would 
protect him from the enemy, that he might rest in per- 
fect security, and the servant with him. He accepted, 
as he knew he was unable to travel farther without 
danger of a fatal ending of his life. According to pre- 
arranged plans, a Union man came and offered Dick 
the shelter of his beautiful mountain home, as long as 
he and his servant might want to stay. 

In this quiet home he improved rapidly, but shortly 
became restless, and at last gained admission to the 
secret lodge meetings of the scouts of the neighbor- 
hood, meeting with them frequently in council. He 
having had much experience in such work, was valu- 
able to them in council. He was now happy in helping 
to keep this Northern gateway open for those who 
were passing to the Northern army. 

His host had been given a partial history of his 
career as a brave fighter, and of the wonderful escapes 
from the enemy when under sentence of execution, and 
was anxious to render him all the comfort possible, to 
save him from dying from the effects of his wound, 


190 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


and the hardships undergone. However, his health was 
gradually built up, and there was nothing for him to 
do, but enjoy this paradise of comfort. The old negro 
had been installed as general helper about the place, 
working only as he might elect. 

The old man was so delighted he wanted to express 
his happiness to his young master. “Massa Dick, dis 
ole niggah don’ ned ter di, ter git ter hebben, kase he 
’bout got dar now, honey ; dis culud individul am mity 
ni de good place, sah. If dis wuz evelastin’ dis po’ 
niggah ax fo’ no mo’, no sah, reckon not, sah. I dun 
tol’ yo’ rite smart bit ago dat if yo’ trus him an kep 
yo ’ mouf shet, dat de Lawd wud ker f o ’ de shown lam, 
sah.” 

“Yes, Uncle Dan, this is all right.” 

“Now, Massa Dick, let’s reson to-geddah. ’Spos — 
’spos, yo ’ wuz a in-fidle, wha yo ’ tink yo ’ be now, sah ? 
Yo’ reckon yo’ be heah? No, sah, yo’ be hangin’ on 
de deble’s hook, wha it am wa’mer den de climit am 
heah, sah. De Lawd-o-mity save yo’, sah.” 

“Yes, Dan, this is a fine place to rest, and get well. 
The good Lord has wonderfully blessed us. Dan, I 
am very happy. I wish I was better and more devoted 
to God’s service. I owe my life to God. 

“Yes, bres de Lawd.” 

“Dar’s a jubilee — dar’s a jubilee dat am acomin. 
Way don’ on de ole camp ground; kum over — kum 
over ! 

Way down on de ole camp ground, de camp-ground. 
Swing lo — swing lo, sweet chariot — swing lo-o-o-o.” 

“Say, Dan, don’t get loud on that jingle, you might 
stir up something. Dan, I am very uneasy; there is 
mother, and the other folks, and— and — ” 

“Yeah, o, yeah, honey. I no who de oder folks am. 
Yo’ jist trus de Lawd. Trus de Lawd an dat lil’ gal 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


191 


kum fru all rite, sah. Dem rebs hain’t no powdab an 
led what kil dat gal, sah ; she am safe ; she dun trus de 
Lawd morn yo’ duz ; she am gooder dan yo’ is.” 

“Yes, Dan, I wish I was good and pure, as she.” 

“Capting Dick, nerv yo’self up, an I tell yo’ some- 
ting yo’ don’ no nuthin ’bout, sah; an — an — reckon yo’ 
be glad ter no, sah.” 

“.What is it, Dan? You are always knowing about 
things. ’ ’ 

“Well, sah, de next night afta we lef yo’ home, de 
rebs kum afta us, sah, an we won’t dar, an da axed 
’bout yo’ an — an — de lil’ gal, too, sah, an den asked fo’ 
dis ole niggah, as if he wuz sumbody, too, sah, an — 
an — da — da — ” 

“Then what, Daij? What did they do? Tell me. 
Can’t you get your mouth to work?” 

“Yes, sah; dat wuz jist what dis niggah wuz 
prochin’ when yo’ desterbd de remarks, sah.” 

“0, my goodness, Dan! When were you ever so 
provoking? Now, Dan, did they hurt mother? or — 
or — anybody else?” 

“No, sah, reckon, sah, but da burn yo’ house, sah, 
an — an — yo’ muddah — ” 

“0, my mother! Burn my mother?” 

“No, sah, I nevah sed dat.” 

“Well, go on, for heaven’s sake! and tell it. ” 

“An yo’ muddah, as I sed afo’, she went ter liv wid 
Anna’s mudder. Missus Clark, sah; an — an — dat sum- 
body else, what yo’ sed.” 

“Dan, you are too provoking for anything; you 
seem to get lost.” 

“Yes, sah, reckon I is, I duz dat sum time, sah.” 

“Dan, stop your fooling, and tell me where you got 
all this.” 


192 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“Sah, yo’ ’member dat nite ovah da in de moun- 
tings when yo’ got sik an I carried yo’ on me back to 
de cabin, sah? wha de ole woman sot up an giv yo’ de 
bed, kase yo ’ wuz mity sik An — an I sot up all night 
an watched dat ole feller wid de koon-skin cap; kaze 
I ferd he kill yo’? We ferd he bad individual, yo’ 
’member?” 

‘‘Yes, bless your old heart. You were very ^ood; 
I was very sick.” 

“Yes, sah. Dat night I hern somting fru de chink 
ob de cabin, rite close wha I sot, yes, sah, two fre tims, 
den I wuz sho’ da wub sumbody out da. Den I tole dat 
ole feller I go out, an he keep sotten dar, if he git up 
I shoot de liver outen him. He sot thar til I kum bak. 
When I got out der wuz dat niggah Pomp. He rided a 
hoss, reckon he stole him, sah. He tole me dat, den I 
got mad, sah, reckon I did, sah; dat Pomp quar nig- 
gah, sah.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me,' Dan? I should have seen 
him. Where had he been all the time? I supposed 
he wuz dead. ’ ’ 

“Capting, I don’ tel yo’ kaze yo’ had all de truble 
yo’ could tote, an I tote dat mi’sef fo’ yo’, sah.” 

“Why have you kept this so long, Dan?” 

“I reckon it wuz rong, Capting, but dis ole niggah 
do de bes he kan fo’ yo’ ter save yo’ frum truble. I 
gess 1 don’ no how. I’s nuthin but po’ ole niggah, no- 
how. ’ ’ And the tears were running down his old black 
face. It grieved him when his young master was dis- 
pleased. He loved him greatly. 

“No, no, Dan! You blessed faithful old soul. If it 
hadn’t been for you, I fear I would have been dead. I 
beg your pardon if I have hurt your feelings. Yes, Uncle 
Dan, you are one of my best friends” (taking his 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


193 


hand). “You shall be free some day, and be your 
own man. Won’t that be nice?” 

“Massa Dick, dat don’ mak no difenc ter dis ole 
man now; his day am gon’ by. He got no wife, he got 
no chilins no mo’; da tuk mi ole woman an sole her 
fron de chilins, sole heh from me; dat mos brok my 
heart ; den she die — bles de Lawd, bettah ded den livin ; 
den da tak all de chillens an sell dem, an — an da all 
loss, an ole Dan lef’ ’lone. Dat what slav’ry do for 
de po’ niggah. No, Capting, yo’ an de lil’ gal am all 
I got ter live fur now. One mo wud, Capting, den I’s 
dun. When des ole eyes see yo’ and de lil’ gal setle 
down in de big house togeddah, den dis ole serven de- 
part in peace, fo’ my eyes hab seed de glory ob de 
Lawd, sah. I’s alredy seed sum sines ob dat a kumin’ 
fur rite smart bit, I reckon, sah.” 

“What signs do you mean, Dan?” 

“0, well, de wa de win’ bio’ lately, I reckon, sah.” 

This was rather unexpected, and took the young 
man by surprise. He put his arm around the old man 
and said: “Dan, you and I will never part as long as 
we live. So there, that fixes that business for all time 
to come, so depend on that.” 

“Yas, sah, ’spect it do. One mo’ wud’, Capting. 
Den I’s dun wid dis funerl busnes. When yo’ go bak 
ter de ole plantation, ’member de ole juniper tree, back 
ob de garden? Dar one Crismus day under dat ole 
tree I got my lil ’ gal Dinah fo ’ my wif . De ole missus 
ob de big white house made de prayer, she wuz yo’ ole 
granma, sah. Now, Massa Dick, yo’ bury dis ole body 
dar uner dat tree by de garden fence. When dis ole 
man gits ter hebben, he tel de Lawd ’bout yo’, and de 
lil’ gal. May de Lawd bles yo’, Capting Dick, an — an 
hep yo ’ be a good man, sah. Dat am all, sah. ’ ’ 


194 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 

“Yes, Dan, it shall be as you say, only you are not 
dead yet, and good for many years with us — or me. 
Now let us talk about other things. Did Pomp tell 
you anything about Anna, that night at the cabin?” 

“Yes, sah, he sed he went wid heh frum de town 
wha she got off de train, an da rode de bosses all de 
day. When de night kum, da staid at the big house, 
and de rebs kum, an Pomp hern em talk ’bout yo’, 
sah — da gwine ter ketch yo’. She sen lettah by Pomp. 
Yo’ no de res, yo’ got de lettah. Den dat fool niggah 
turn de boss loos an tuk ter de woods lik a varment, 
an da don’ kotch him no mo’, sah, not yit, sah.” 

“Where had Pomp been, all this time? How did 
the crazy nigger come to be away up in that country?” 

“Don’ no, sah; reckon de Lawd use de crazy nig- 
gahs sumtimes; sed he wuz dar lookin’ fo’ yo’, an — an 
— gitin’ lettahs fur de solgers.” 

“Looking for me, and getting letters for soldiers? 
Why did he think I was up there ? and what letters was 
he getting for soldiers?” 

“In de fust place, Pomp carried bushels ob lettahs 
eros de big mountings fur de solgers. Den he am a 
queer niggah, don ’ no what he look fur yo ’ up dar, he 
sa da eary yo’ off, when da shoot yn.” 

“But here comes our host, what a fine-looking old 
gentleman. He may have news for us.” 

Dick greeted him with a “Good morning. Colonel; 
fine day.” 

“Good morning, my little Captain. How are you 
and your- friend ? ” 

“Very well, thank you, and as happy as larks, sir. 
Our lot seems to have fallen in pleasant places, or 
rather providence has led us to what seems like a par- 
adistic garden of roses and sunshine, under your vine 


FIEES OF THE SIXTIES 


195 


and fig-tree, so kindly tendered by your generosity, 
sir. ’ ’ 

‘‘Don’t speak of it, sir. All welcome, thrice wel- 
come, sir. And how is our colored friend?” shaking 
hands with each of them, which seemed to about take 
Dan off his feet, as he was not used to being treated 
thus by Southern white gentlemen. 

After conversing on general topics for a time, the 
host took from his pocket a letter, saying it came by 
special post with instructions for immediate delivery. 
It was addressed to Captain Richard Brown. ‘ ‘ I think, 
however, from the appearance of the handwriting, it 
is not of an official character.” And with a knowing 
smile, he handed a dainty missive to the little Captain, 
who blushed like a school girl. 

“And to deliver this note, is my excuse for intrud- 
ing upon your quiet. Captain, and wish to assure you 
I very much enjoy your resting here with me, and I 
hope you may never think of taking the field again, 
and pardon, if I repeat again, you and your colored 
servant are thrice welcome to remain under the foliage 
of our old manor trees, as long as you may elect, sir. 
Good-morning. ’ ’ 

And he was gone before an expression of thanks 
could reach him. But the letter ! Who could be send- 
ing a letter by special post? The handwriting was 
familiar, and yet not recognizable at a glance. The 
Captain felt his heart getting up into his throat as he 
broke the seal. These were times when the breaking 
of a letter seal stirred the hearts of many thousand 
anxious hearts in the North and South. The seal was 
broken, and the contents were devoured as one hungry 
unto death for food. It was often food, though not of' 
the material kind, and yet just as essential to life. 


196 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“Yes, Uncle Dan, it is from Anna, and she is safe 
in the Yankee army. Wonderful, wonderful! How 
could that have come to pass ? Strange things are hap- 
pening now and then with her. I can’t understand it; 
she is a wonder to me, anyhow.” 

“No, Massa Dick. Da don’ nuthin jist hapen, sah; 
de Lawd duz it, sah. Wondah how many mo’ tims I’s 
got ter tell yo ’ dat ? ’ ’ 

“I know it, Dan. I wish I had the kind of faith 
you have. It must he a great comfort to one, and 
I must have it^ too. Since God has been so good to me, 
and delivered me from death. How slow I am to see 
God in these things. When I do see it, everything is 
plain, and I have no doubts. ’ ’ 

“Let me tel yo’, Capting. Reckon de white man 
ken hav jis as good faith as a niggah, ef — ef — he am 
jis as good as a niggah; yes, sah, reckon he kin, sah.” 

“Well, Dan, we will be going to our dear home one 
of these days. They turned me round in these hills 
until I can ’t tell where we are, but we can ’t be very far 
from there. I wish I had a map.” 

“Say, lil’ boy, yo’ don’ need a map goin up dar; 
hebben ain’t dat kind, nohow.” 

“0, Dan, I don’t mean that; I mean home, where 
Anna is.” 

“Yeah, yeah; skuse dis niggah, Capting Dick.” 

“It would seem mighty good to see the folks 
again.” 

“Yes, sah, dat am a fact, ter see de oni yo’ seen 
afore, I reckon.” 

“Now, Dan, here is this letter from her. How in 
the kingdom did she know we were here?” 

“Don’ no, sah; gess not, sah.” 

“Really, Dan, there might be danger here, if the 
enemy should find our roosting place, and get after us. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


197 


We are not very well prepared to give them a good re- 
ception, I fear.” 

‘‘Yes sah, I reckon not, sah. Capting Dick, dis nig- 
gah am tir’d; he got nnf dat rerseption bizness no- 
how.” 

He had forgotten about danger in his quiet resting 
place, being assured of his safety by his friends, who 
were still guarding him that he might recover. There 
had been mounted scouts on all the highways leading 
that way, not only for his protection, but for the pro- 
tection of others ranging through the mountains. But 
Captain Dick was not aware of this, therefore his un- 
easiness. He inteneded to ask his host about it, but 
then, thought of the assurance given him of his safety. 
He had seen a horseman riding beneath the shadow of 
some trees that morning at the end of the lane, and 
ventured to speak of it to his host. But he seemed 
disposed to change the subject, and the matter was 
dropped, as he appeared indisposed to tell anything, 
if he knew about it. 

In a few days, Dick received another letter from 
Anna, informing him of her newly found friends, and 
intended visit of herself and friends in a very few 
days. The commander of the post was coming with 
her to pay them a visit. They were coming in state. 
This was still more mystery. How could she have 
found new friends in the Northern army? arid that 
they would include the commander of the post. The 
commander was a Colonel, commanding all the forces 
in that place. And they were coming 'in state. He said 
to himself, ‘ ‘ I wonder what in the Sam-hill that 
means?” 

This communication created great expectancy. 
Colonel Johnson was much elated over the prospects of 
having Colonel Clark for his guest, having met the Col- 


198 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


onel at his quarters, and admired him very much. The 
tedious waiting to Captain Dick was not enjoyable. 
Time passed slowly, and the intervening days were the 
longest in the history of his life. But the event came, 
and with it great joy to the little Captain, but disap- 
pointment to the old Colonel. 

CHAPTER XXI. 

KISSING THE FLAG. 

After Anna had seen the mother-bird feeding her 
little ones, and remembered what God said about birds, 
and the many other precious promises in the book she 
loved, she took fresh courage. Still not knowing where 
she was going, she continued on the main road leading 
from Knoxville, Tennessee, to ’Cumberland Gap, which 
was invested at the time with a large force of the 
enemy. This direction was fatal to her, if continued 
without intervention. But for some reason, the horse 
kept his rein, and she her thoughts. 

“God may be leading me now, but it looks more like 
being led by some ilk fate. I am going North, and re- 
member there was a large camp of the enemy some- 
where about the Gap a few weeks ago. They may 
have moved now.” These were the expressions of her 
mind. Then she remembered a Bible verse, taught her 
by her grandfather. “I am but a little child, I know 
not how to go in or come out.” “No, neither do I,” 
she thought. “But God gave Solomon wisdom after 
he said that, and led him, and if I trust Him, he will 
lead me. ’ ’ She drew rein, and gently applied the whip, 
as she said, “.Come on, good horsey, we are going some- 
where and let us be off. ’ ’ The faithful animal, as if he 
knew the spirit of his rider, pricked up his ears and 
strode along at an easy, rapid gait. She had not gone 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


199 


far, when the horse suddenly checked his speed and 
lifted his head, as if he had sniffed something. Then 
the horse stopped with head erect and ears pointing 
forward, as if to say, Danger, danger!’' 

‘'What, my good horsey, what now? Afraid?” 

She, too, became alarmed, as she heard the clatter 
of horses’ feet, and the rattle of sabers. She was try- 
ing to decide which was best, an onward course or a 
backward flight. They were coming on a road at 
right angles with her’s and the roads would soon inter- 
sect; then she would be in full view. The horse was 
quiet, as if waiting the bidding of his fair mistress. 
Just as she was reaching for a better grip on the bridle 
reins, for a backward flight, she caught, through the 
brush, a glimpse of a blue-coated cavalcade. Her heart 
gave a leap, and so did the horse, under the smarting 
cut of her whip. “0, can it be true, they are the boys of 
the blue? Yes, there is the flag, the blessed old flag!” 
She was soon surrounded by a troop of happy good 
fellows ; they saw her emotion and agitation, but every- 
body began asking questions at once. 

The Confederate oflicer, with his well-armed and 
trusty men, had finally gotten on to her trail, and had 
gained on her rapidly, expecting to see her just ahead 
of them, expecting also that if they should not overtake 
her she would ride into the Confederate lines at the 
Gap. So they felt quite sure of their fair prize. Ex- 
pecting to see her as they ascended the hill-top before 
them, they were more than surprised to see her ride 
into a troop of Yankee cavalrymen, more than a hun- 
dred strong. They had ridden hard to overtake her, 
and arrived just in time to see her rescued by her 
friends. They fired a volley, perhaps as a salute as 
they wei;e beyond the range of the guns, as evidence of 
their appreciation of her prowess, they were seen to 


20b 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


lift their hats, as they turned their course backword. 
Anna, though blinded with tears of joy, exclaimed: 
'‘0, you blessed good men. God sent you here. God 
sent me to you.” 

As she rode her horse under the flag, she cried : 
“Just let me get hold of the corner of that pretty flag! 
0, isn’t it beautiful? It has been so long since I have 
seen it. 0, it is so lovely.” 

She reached out her hand and drew it to her lips, 
and kissed the flag of her country, for which she had 
come near giving her life as an offering. The silken 
fringe fell across her rosy cheek as she kissed the folds 
of silk in her hand. She leaned forward on the horse ’s 
neck and cried for joy. The young officer very dis- 
creetly turned away as he brushed a tear from his 
face, and called out, “Attention! Forward, march!” 

“Young lady, were you riding our way? We shall 
be glad to escort you, if so. We are not often thus 
favored.” 

“Captain, I shall be glad to ride for awhile with 
you that you may advise me as to what is the best for 
me to do.” 

“I assure you it will give my men pleasure to pro- 
tect you. I presume you were in danger, judging 
from conditions back at the cross-roads where we 
met you.” 

“Yes, Captain, I was being chased by the enemy, 
and you and your men came just in time to save me.” 

“My lady, it will be a great pleasure for us to have 
the honor of saving one like you, and protecting you 
even to the sword that might involve life itself.” 

Her joy was unspeakable, as she realizeddier safety 
under the flag. For a time she was unable to talk with- 
out crying. She said, “Captain, I will tell you all 
about it, just as soon as I can. I seem to be unable to 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


201 


do it now. I did not know yon were so near, neither 
did I know the enemy was so near. ’ ’ 

Bye and bye she was riding by the side of the offi- 
cer, giving him some of the conditions under which he 
found, her. He was so taken with her story, that' he 
seemed to forget his command, and all the surround- 
ings, and found himself falling behind the troop. He 
had lost sight of everything, but the charming fact be- 
fore him, aglow with the narration of the most wonder- 
ful tragedy. His surprise and astonishment became 
boundless, as she detailed to him her experience in the 
hospital, the railroad train, her ride with the horses 
and servant, her message to Dick, the deception of the 
host, and her final ride, when she met them. But the 
troop halted, and a single bugle note rung out sharply 
and awakened the young lieutenant to a consciousness 
of his duty. 

^‘Excuse me, madam, for one moment. There seems 
to be something ahead.” He charged up to the head of 
the column, wondering if there was a fight on, with the 
enemy obstructing the way. He said as he forged ahead : 
‘‘If — if the enemy is meeting us, we will defend her 
from recapture at the cost of every life in the com- 
mand. They are select men, and will do good work.” 

“Defend who. Lieutenant?” said one of his men. 

“Why — why, sir, the flag, of course. Why ask me 
that question? What is it. Sergeant? Why has the 
troop halted?” 

“We are unable to know which of these roads to 
take. Captain. Here are two, and neither of them seem 
to go in the right direction, sir.” 

“Look at your map; you have a draft of the roads 
that will give you the direction. You should have 
known that.” 


202 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“Yes, sir; but you have that in your pocket, sir.”^ 

“Yes, well, I believe I have, when I think of it, 
Sergeant. They were aiming for Big Creek Gap, 
through which they had entered Powell’s valley from 
the Kentucky side of the mountains the previous day. 
After consulting the map, they traveled on down the 
valley toward the Gap. The Lieutenant was soon back 
by the side of his very interesting guest. The officer 
found the little lady ready to confer, as to her safety 
and that of her friends. The Lieutenant insisted kindly 
that the only thing for her to do was to continue with 
them to “God’s Country,” and there remain until the 
army moved again into Tennessee. “AVhile this is only 
a little excursion, we are going there, fifty thousand 
strong, in a short time. We are going to take “Old 
Glory” with us, and plant her on every hill-top to stay 
forever.” 

Thus the enthusiastic young officer continued in his 
argument to induce the girl to go with them, realizing 
her danger if she remained and attempted to return 
to her home. But Anna was thinking of the dear ones 
at home, and of that other one who might be in trouble. 
She was. not going into security for herself, while her 
young Captain was in danger of his life. She finally 
informed the officer of the things that were troubling 
her. 

“There is my mother — she may think I am killed 
or captured ; there is my faithful servant, who must be 
protected. Then there are the horses I took. I in- 
tended to send them back, but it happened so I could 
not do it. Now they will publish me as a horse thief. 
Surely, I am bad enough, but I am not that.” 

The Lieutenant, after hearing he^: story of condi- 
tions, halted his command, and gatti^or^^d ^ few of th«^m 
in council, and related to them ^ffiat he had in mim^, 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


203 


They agreed and one of the mert volunteered to make 
the efforts to reach the friends of the girl, and inform 
them of where she was. 

After relating to her his plan of sending a man to 
inform her friends of her safety, she raised the ques- 
tion of the horses. He informed her that they had a 
way of arranging such matters with the people over on 
that side, and he would care for the horses, and guar- 
antee that the liveryman would either get his horses or 
their value in money. 

‘^Well, I am so glad you have a way of fixing up 
such things, for I did not intend to st — keep the poor 
man’s horses. 

“What else is there, my lady, to be arranged for, 
before you are ready to leave this God-forsaken Con- 
federacy. ” 

“Sir, you are very kind to me, and it seems like 
you were sent of God to rescue me. I had been asking 
God for his care, I knew I was in danger. I was just 
trusting in Him, when I met you. I am all alone in 
the world now, and far from my mother, sir. I do not 
know what to do. . I do not know any of you. You are 
a stranger to me, and yet so very kind. Captain. Are 
you a Christian?” 

“Madam, I am sorry to be compelled to say, I am 
not.” 

“Have you a mother, or a sister at your home. Cap- 
tain ? ” 

“Yes, my little lady, I have two sweet sisters and 
the sweetest and best mother in all this world.” (His 
eyes filled with tears). 

“Then, my good sir, I will go with you. Captain, 
may I see the soldier you are going to send to my 
home?” 


204 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“You may, with pleasure; he is one of my bravest 
fellows. ’ ’ The man was introduced to her, and she un- 
consciously looked him over, saying, “And you are the 
man the Captain detailed for this dangerous service for 
meT’ 

“No, I have not been detailed, or ordered to do 
this. I have volunteered to do it.” 

“You will take this note to my mother for me?” 
(handing it to him.) 

“No, let me have it again; should you be captured, 
you had best not have anything for the enemy to see. ’ ’ 

“Madam, I will deliver your note to your mother.” 

“You are a brave man, but do you know what this 
may mean?” 

“Yes, my lady, I thought the matter all out before 
I offered to you — the Lieutenant — the command^ 
ing officer, my services.” 

“O, you splendid brave soldier boy. I will not 
let you take the note. It might get you into trouble 
and then they might execute you as a spy. You just 
tell mother I am safe, and will stay in safety, until I 
can come home to «tay. May God bfess you. ’ ^ 

The noble fellow saluted her politely, bowed to 
her and was gone. 

“The troop passed unmolested through Big Creek 
Gap, though they were in the heart of the enemy’s 
country, reaching the regimental camp, after a day’s 
travel. They were complimented by the old Colonel. 
Anna at once became the idol of the regiment, and an 
honored guest of this noble band of Pennsylvanians’ 
for weeks to come. A nice comfortable room was se- 
cured for her near the camp. She anxiously waited for 
the scout to report from her home. The sixth day af- 
ter arrivel of the regiment, the scout reported at head- 
quarters. He was sent at once to report to her. When 


FmES OF THE SIXTIES 


205 


he was announced, she ran down the stairway two steps 
at a time, and met him at the door. She clasped the 
hand of this brave, careworn, bronzed boy in blue, 
who had risked his life for her to satisfy her wishes. 

‘‘Good morning, Mr. Scout, Mr. Soldier. 0, I am 
so glad to see you, they didn’t get you did they? Did 
you see mother? and — and — the rest of them?” 

“I saw your mother, but the enemy gave me a chase 
for my life, but now I have the pleasure of reporting 
to you. ’ ’ 

“Now you will tell me all, tell me everything, won’t 
you ? ” 

He gave her all the information he had, but was 
broken in on by many questions about things in gener- 
al. He related to her about the burning of the home of 
Mr. Brown, and how her mother took Mrs. Brown into 
her home and sheltered her. Also told her how they 
all requested that she remain in safety until the times 
became better. When he had finished, she asked, “Is 
that all? Didn’t they send me word about any one 
else? Is there nothing about any one of the neigh- 
bors?” 

“No, that is all.” 

“What about those faithful servants and — 
friends ? ” 

“The servants are all away. I think one of them 
ran away with a young officer to Kentucky, who had 
ventured in to see his folks, and the rebels got after 
him, but he got away.” 

“Did you hear them say where the officer, or the 
servant, I mean, went to in Kentucky?” 

“No, they just said he and an old colored man 
went to Kentucky.” She thanked him with such man- 
ifest enthusiasm, it seemed to confuse him, as she 
pressed his hand, and cordially bade him good-bye, and 


206 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


at the same time imparted to him the fact that he was 
a noble fellow. She said that she would speak to the 
Captain, and express her gratitude, and that she wanted 
to compliment him on having such good men in his 
command; and at the same time she would request a 
promotion for the one who had taken his life in his 
hand to accommodate a little girl. 

‘‘Madam, you do me a great kindness, yes, more, 
you honor me. I only perfofmed a soldier’s duty; 
that is all.” 

She again thanked him, and bade him good-bye 
looking at him with a bewitching smile of gratitude. 
He still lingered, as if wishing to say more. As he turned 
to go, he stumbled over the door-step, and made a 
very ungallant display of arms and legs, as he gath- 
ered himself up to depart. She was kind enough to 
be looking the other way, and of course, didn’t see his 
misfortune. When passing out at the gate, another 
matter occurred to him, which the Captain had re- 
quested him to report to her. But to return was very 
embarrassing to him, but it had to be done; she saw 
him coming and met him at the door. 

“I — thought, I thought, I ought — to— to — ” 

“0, no sir, that was nothing. Do not mind it, you 
just happened to not see where you set your foot. I 
fall sometimes myself.” 

“No, madam, that is not it. I returned to tell you 
something I had forgotten.” 

“0 you did. What is it please?” 

“There was a fool nigger following me from the 
settlement — a fool crazy kind of a nigger. I thought 
once I would shoot him, but I didn’t. That is all, I 
believe.” 

“A what? a fool nigger? Maybe I know him. Send 
him to me, please.” 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


207 


'H may not find the skulking rascal now; he was 
sneaking round the camp after I arrived for a while. ’ ’ 

“You send him to me, I think I know him; he is 
a remarkable character; he has been of great value to 
me.” 

“Certainly, if I can catch him. He is as wild as a 
buck.” 

“After diligent search, the veritable Pomp was 
unearthed, and presented to his mistress. He was 
overjoyed at meeting her. He had been looking for 
her, but had almost concluded to look elsewhere, all 
efforts to ascertain why he followed the lead that 
brought him to where she was failed, and always re- 
mained a mystery. He gave her news, just the kind 
she wanted. How this curious man, mixture of 
foolishness and shrewdness could find out so many 
things was a puzzle. How could he know when others 
failed at every point? Promptly he revealed to her 
the location of Captain Dick and Dan. 

She tried to thank him, but such efforts were al- 
ways a failure. It always set him off to winking and 
blinking like a baboon. Then his only refuge was to 
take to the woods, his nativity. 

CHAPTER XXII. 

ANNA AT HEADQUAETKRS. 

Having found the location of her Captain and Un- 
cle Dan, Anna’s heart was bounding with joy, inex- 
pressable joy. 

“Yes, I will! I will write him a letter. I have so 
many things to tell him! 0, when I see him, won’t it 
be fine to tell him everything; but I must be content 
with writing now. 


208 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


The letter was written and Pomp was sent for. 
But to her astonishment, the “crazy nigger” was not 
to be found. He had taken to the woods for sure. She 
thought perhaps she had thanked him too much and 
sent a note to her friend, the Lieutenant, asking him 
to call, as she wished to speak to him. He answered 
very promptly, and seemed pleased to offer his ser" 
vices in any possible way. Really he had been wish- 
ing for such an opportunity. 

“Yes, sir. Lieutenant, I sent for you. I desired 
that you accompany me to the Colonel’s headquar- 
ters. I wish to speak to him concerning an important 
matter. ’ ’ 

“Nothing gives me more pleasure than to be of 
service to you. Miss Clark. At what time shall we 
call on the Colonel?” 

“Suppose we say, at one o’clock, this afternoon, 
if it may please you. Lieutenant.” 

The Lieutenant was faithfully on time, with a 
competent margin, hoping to utilize the margin to a 
good purpose. The truth of the matter was, he had 
fallen fatally in love with one whom he thought was 
the sweetest girl in all the world. But when he had 
made several attempts to use the “margin” along the 
lines suggested by his heart, with a little country girl, 
he discovered a strong personality, a diplomat, in the 
subtle art of gently side-tracking all advances of the 
kind. 

She could present a shield of polished steel, that 
shattered every Cupid dart. The shafts he hurled were 
as straw against the armorplate of a battleship. There 
flitted across her face, an expression of surprise, then 
she gave him a look of grateful sadness, as if the 
thought had given distress. Then she turned to him 
and said, 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


209 


‘‘Lieutenant, I am sorry. I am indeed sorry. My 
dear sir, I think I understand you, and if I do, permit 
me to be frank with you. I think you are a high- 
minded gentleman, a brave soldier, and a good man, 
well worthy the love and confidence of a good woman, 
and permit me to say to you, I am under great obliga- 
tions to you for your kindness to me. I am unable 
to express my gratitude, for your kindness in protect- 
ing me, and bringing me to where I am safe and happy. 
But frankly, sir, my faith and life is plighted to anoth- 
er, who is just as brave and as good as you are, or any 
other man on earth. And since you have honored me, 
even with an intimation of your feeling toward me, I 
feel that I owe you this as a duty to tell you what I 
have and I hope this will not prevent us from being 
friends in the future.” 

The Lieutenant had been surprised at her tactful 
repartee in former social conversations with her; but 
this was the surprise of his life. He had thought when 
entering the room, he had spoken to a little girl, but 
now if he should retire he would say, “good-day,” to 
a full-grown woman. Although taken aback his re- 
ply to her was worthy. 

“My good lady, you are a wonderful combination 
of surprises to me. While I would give anything in 
the world, if I could rightfully a;nd lawfully obtain 
what you have given another, yet I shall admire you, 
and esteem you more highly than ever, for your honest 
and candid expression of your relation to another, and 
I conclude he is one of the noble men of earth, or he 
would not have been given a heart like yours, and a 
life of such transparent purity. Pardon me now, if I 
have brought even a shadow over your life for a mo- 
ment, and it shall be as you have said: We are and 
shall be friends, I am at your service.” 


210 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


'‘Thank you sir, I heartily appreciate your kind- 
ness again. Now shall we walk up to the ColonePs 
tent ? ’ ’ 

The young officer introduced her to the gruff old 
Colonel. He very slightly acknowledged her presence 
with an indifferent nod of his head. The young offi- 
cer gave briefly, in few words^ their experience in 
meeting the young lady over in the valley, on their 
trip, also her narrow escape from the enemy. The old 
Colonel had heard of her arrival in the camp in a gen- 
eral way, and understood she was only a refugee from 
Tennessee. He was not pleased with the conduct of 
the officer, in sending one of his men into the very 
heart of the Confederacy to satisfy the whim of a lit- 
tle irresponsible girl. And now she is before him with 
some other whim to be satisfied, and his first thought 
was that he would soon make short work of this busi- 
ness in hand. But as the officer proceeded with his 
story, and had related the circumstances of their meet- 
ing, also the statements of the girl of her wonderful 
escape, the old Colonel became interested and began 
on a line of interrogation himself. Her answers were 
so simple and transparent, that the truth of her state- 
ments were not doubted for a moment. She related 
her eperience in the hospital and her escape from it, 
to the "Gap,’’ where she met the Federal forces under 
the command of the Lieutenant. 

The Colonel at once changed his attitude toward 
her. She was now in his estimation, a veritable hero- 
ine, and he an anxious listener to her tragical story. 
He was anxious to know more of her^ and ready to con- 
fer any favor possible. Anything was her’s for the 
asking, if in his power to grant. There was a prompt 
change of the tide in the old Colonel’s feelings toward 
the "Tennessee refugee.” Turning to her, as if it had 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


211 


just occurred to him that she might have come to him 
on some mission, or for some purpose, he said, 

“Did you want to see me, my little heroine? Can 
I do anything for you? We are always ready to accom- 
modate such people as you.’’ 

“Yes, Colonel, just one favor if you please, and I 
will not trouble you again, sir.” 

“What? Trouble us? You are the very sunshine 
of our camp, my little fair one. If I thought I had a 
man here who would not defend you to the last drop of 
'blood in his veins, I would discharge him from the 
United States service immediately.” 

“But, Colonel, I will not trouble you again, if you 
will — if you will—” 

“Tut — tut! No, not going to try to leave us, eh? 
No, my little maid, you are our royal prisoner until we 
can deliver you to your mother’s arms. But you must 
be contented and patient. Give us time, give us time. ’ ’ 

“But, Colonel, may I explain?” 

“Yes, 0 certainly, certainly.” 

“Colonel, may I see you all alone?” 

“0, yes, daughter, certainly you may. Gentlemen 
you may retire, for a moment, please.” 

There was a general hustling out through the door 
of the big tent, and when they were all out, she said, 
as she moved gracefully and quietly to the Colonel’s 
side, and knelt on the ground at his knee. 

“Now, Colonel, are we all alone.” 

“Why, why, yes, daughter, we are alone, why?” 

“Well, Colonel, I must tell you, I had a papa once; 
and he looked like you. He was not so gray, though; 
his eyes were just like yours, he smiled like you do. I — 
I — ^yes, I loved him so. I love you some, too, because 
you look like him. Do you care if I love you? I have 
no papa any more to love.” 


212 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


‘‘Little maid, you may sit over there on that camp 
stool, if you please.’’ 

“No, sir; I will not leave you until I tell you my 
story. Then I will go out, and never see you again, 
if you say so.” 

She related to him a part of her life story. The old 
Colonel became very uneasy and restless, and turned 
his face from her. 

“I have no papa now to help me. He died over in 
Tennessee. He had a brother somewhere. We, have 
never seen him'; mama says if she could find where he 
is she would write to him. And — and — we have no 
home now, the rebels burned it up. My papa was a good 
man; he prayed for us all every morning, and when 
he died his last prayer was for us. Colonel, do you 
pray? Yes, I know you do. We all have our trust in 
God for the best. Yes, he has been leading me. 0, 
Colonel, I just know it or I would not have been where 
I am now. Now, Colonel, I want just one thing, and I 
believe you will give it to me. ’ ’ 

“Well, well! Good gracious, child; why don’t you 
ask for it; you can have anything that is possible for 
me to give.” 

“Well, I want you to send a man to take a letter 
for me to a friend, and I believe you will do it for me. 
I am not afraid of you any more, and I like you ever 
so much.” 

“Now, my little one, do you know you are asking 
a hard thing of me? Yes, my daughter, a hard thing; 
but I said I would do it, and I will, if it takes the whole 
regiment. And yet I can hardly allow another man 
to risk his life to the Confederacy for your letter, my 
little one. No, not very well. Could you wait a little 
while? But then the letter will have to go somehow, 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 21^ 

if you say so, if I have to take it myself. Now sit over 
there on that stool, please.’’ 

‘‘No, sir, that is not what I asked. The letter goes 
the other way; the way is perfectly safe; no, no, I 
would not ask it if it was going the other way. ’ ’ 

“Well, why didn’t you say so, then, at the first?” 

‘ ‘ Colonel, you did not give me time ; you would not 
wait for me to explain to you.” 

“Yes. 0, I see. Well, it shall be taken for you, 
either way. North or South, even to Canada or South 
America, if you wish.” 

“0, I thank you ever so much, (Jolonel. I know you 
are a good man. You look so much like my father, and, 
yes, I will tell mama all about you when I get home 
again. ’ ’ 

“When shall I take your letter for you?” 

“0, no, sir, you will not take it yourself.” 

“When shall I send it, then?” 

“Could you do it right away. Colonel?” 

She appeared to the Colonel as but a mere child in 
her general deportment, but when the Lieutenant ap- 
proached her on a different subject, he brought out 
the full-fledged woman, which surprised him beyond 
his understanding of womankind. So, with the 
Colonel. The letter was sent by two orderlies, post 
haste. The Colonel took her sealed letter and placed it 
in one of his own envelopes and marked it “0. B.” 
(Official business), and directed it to “Colonel John- 
son, compliments of Colonel Clark, commanding post.” 
She had told him that Colonel Johnson was Captain 
Dick’s host. As he handled her letter he had noticed 
the address was to a Captain Richard Brown. He asked 
her who was this Captain Brown. Perhaps he had heard 
of him, and perhaps not, he would ask some of the 
officers about him. She did not seem to be interested 


214 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


farther, and passed out of the tent when that subject 
was introduced, not wishing to give any further infor- 
mation. The letter was gone, and the girl was gone, 
yet the Colonel seemed ill at ease. He sat with his 
head in his hands, thinking. “Those eyes of hers, 
though filled with tears at times, yet, they were the very 
picture of the eyes of my own little darling Mary’s, 
my darling baby, about the same age and size, and their 
mannerisms were duplicates. This bothers me.” 

The night following the interview the Colonel could 
not sleep; or if he did he dreamed of home and his 
little Mary. It seemed as if he were all torn to pieces. 
He could not rest contented anywhere. This brave and 
gallant old soldier had seen hard times and places. 
He was the commander of a regiment of cavalry. They 
had been led by him over many fields of hard fighting ; 
they had bravely cut their way out of many close 
quarters, when others, of less courage, would have 
surrendered. Their Colonel never said, “Boys, go!” 
but led them and said, “Boys come.” They were fond 
of him for his undaunted courage on the field. But 
it could not be said of him that he was amiable. He 
was rather a recluse, spending much of his time in his 
tent alone, when not in action. ' The hardness of the 
long service through which he had passed, tended to 
eliminate the soft, smooth qualities of his nature to 
the minimum, bringing out and developing the rougher 
in his association with men. He did not know this; 
he did not intend it should be so. He, however, loved 
men. He dearly loved his men. He knew every officer 
and felt his worth. He knew which of them to trust 
with a difficult task. He knew what each of them 
would do in emergency on the field of action. The 
efficiency of his regiment was due to the Colonel’s 
judgment of men. When contemplating an engage- 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


215 


ment he placed the different companies of the bat- 
talions, according to the ability of the officer in com- 
mand. For an emergency he wanted an officer with 
quick thought and quick action, and in his company 
and regimental promotions of men, this theory was car- 
ried out, regardless of who was next in line of promo- 
tion. 

The next morning he was up and out of his tent 
earlier than usual, walking back and forth in front 
of his quarters. His first thought was of the girl who 
had caused his restlessness. The Colonel resolved to 
know more of the one whose very presence seemed 
to throw over his life a charm that softened his nature, 
left roses in his pathway, and sunshine in his heart. 

CHAPTER XXHI. 

ANNA FOUND HEE UNCLE. 

The following day was destined to be a marked 
period in the life of Colonel Clark. Anna and the 
Lieutenant had gone to take their usual horseback 
ride across the country. The old Colonel had stood at 
the door of his tent, and watched them as long as 
they were in sight. 

‘‘She rides like a queen; certainly a very extraor- 
dinary girl. There is something about her I can’t under- 
stand. She seems to have so many traits of semblance 
to our family; yet she is a Southerner.” These were 
his thoughts as he walked back into his tent, resolving 
to know more about her. He was watching for their 
return, and saw them again, riding back into the camp. 
After the horses were turned over to the groom, and 
everything was quiet for the noon hour, he sent his 
orderly with orders for Lieutenant Dixon to report at 
his head quarters immediately. This young officer 


216 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


was quite anxious as to this imperative order from the 
commander, and wondered what his commander could 
have in mind concerning him. Such pre-emptory or- 
ders were seldom given, and when they were, did not 
portend comfort to the one receiving them. So the 
young man obeyed promptly, with many misgivings. 

Upon entering the tent he lifted his hat, saluted and 
stood at attention before the Colonel. The latter bade 
him a cordial ‘‘Good afternoon, sir. Be seated. 
“Lieutenant, I have requested your presence that I 
may inquire more definitely concerning the young lady, 
as you seem to be better acquainted with her than any 
one else about the camp. I would be glad, sir, if you 
would tell me all you know about her.” 

“Yes, my Colonel, I will gladly do so.” 

“I hope, sir, as I am an old man, old enough to be 
her grandfather, that you will not misunderstand me. ’ ’ 

“Yes, sir, I think I understand, and really, sir, I 
know but little more than yourself, if any. She has 
been disposed to say very little of herself to me, sir, 
and for some reason I have not tried to question her 
as to her antecedents. You have heard her say more 
about herself than I, if she gave you any of her past 
history. ’ ’ 

“Lieutenant, I will say to you that there is some- 
thing connected with her life we have not yet found 
out. I mean, sir, as to her mother and father. Then 
her deportment as a girl — first a little girl, then, as a 
woman of magnificent mind and maturity, I can’t un- 
derstand.” 

“Neither can I, Colonel; but I know more now, 
and have had my lesson in blundering like an idiot.” 
The Colonel looked knowingly, and smiled, as the 
young man blushed and wondered if he hadn’t blun- 
dered again. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


217 


“Lieutenant, I think, if it may not be embarrassing 
to her, I shall investigate the matter further. I shall 
request that you, after the noon hour, say about 2 
o’clock, take to her my compliments and request her 
to report at my quarters at 3 o’clock P. M.” 

“Your request, my Colonel, shall be carried out, 
sir.” 

“Thank you. Lieutenant, you are excused, sir.” 

Anna received the Colonel’s request with some mis- 
givings as to its purport. “What can he want with 
me? I wonder if he is going to send me away. But 
then, I am not afraid of him. I believe ^he is a good 
man, and I rather like him. I hope he won’t send me 
away, for I don’t know where to go.” 

The appointed time came, and she was escorted to 
the Colonel’s quarters. They found him waiting, 
though they were before the time set for the meeting. 
He was anxious to accomplish the interview. She was 
also anxious to know her doom; so each of them were 
a little previous as to the time appointed. 

“Good afternoon, my lady. Glad to see you so 
cheery and rosy to-day. Army life seems to agree with 
you, my dear. Our royal prisoner, eh? Sweet as a 
rose.” 

The hearty grasp of his hand, as he took both of 
hers in his, dispelled all fear, and she was soon her own 
bright self again. She proved herself an adept at the 
play of repartee with the Colonel, which pleased him 
exceedingly. He seemed more jovial and jubilant 
than if he had whipped a whole army of rebels. The 
Lieutenant was kindly invited to a seat, which he ac- 
cepted graciously. The Colonel soon went the rounds 
of conventional play, and came to the subject nearest 
to his heart. 


218 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


''My little lady, I wanted to ask you a few ques- 
tions, and I scarcely know just how to begin. It would 
be rather a peculiar circumstance — our meeting as we 
have — should we happen to be related.” She rose to 
her feet, as if to run, but undecided as to which way 
to go. "Please be seated, daughter,” said the Colonel. 
I didn’t want to scare you. I just wanted to find out 
something. I have heard you spoken of. May I ask 
you your full name, please?” 

"My name is Anna Belle Clark, sir.” 

There was evident pride in the emphasis she put in 
the word "Clark,” and at the same time looking at 
him with open-eyed wonder. 

"Yes, I thought as much. Your mother’s name was 
Belle, and your grandmother ’s name was Anna. ’ ’ 

"Why, Colonel, why, how did you know? Who told 
you that?” 

"Never mind, my dear; wait a moment, please.” 

"0, sir, why?” rising to her feet again. "Please 
tell me. ’ ’ 

"I, too, am from the great State of Pennsylvania. 
My name is Clark.” 

"0, dear, my papa’s own brother; yes, his own good 
brother. He told us about you long ago and now I 
have found you.” She sprang to him, and with arms 
around his neck, she affectionately kissed him again 
and again. 

"0, sir, you are so like my very papa; I love you so 
good.” She cried and laughed alternately. "0, my 
poor dead papa ! I have found his very own brother. 
0, mama, mama! 0, if she could see you! I shall 
never, never leave you. You must go right straight 
and see her, won ’t you, Colonel ? ’ ’ 

"No, no, not to-day, my dear little daughter. Some 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


219 


day we may see them, when these hard days of war 
are passed, I hope.’^ 

‘‘Lieutenant, you were so very good to find my dear 
uncle for me. I thank you very, very much, sir.’^ 

But that young gentleman" did not get the benefit 
of the ^compliment, as he had taken occasion to vacate 
the premises at some period of the interview, no one 
knew just when; he didn’t himself, but was seen going 
out, using his handkerchief vigorously, as if the weather 
was uncomfortably warm. She revealed to the Colonel 
many things relative to her people, and the part she 
had taken in the tragedies, down in the Southland, 
and as she revealed in these narratives, she appeared 
to rise up before him, out of girlhood, into some dr 
vinity, with a supernatural endowment. Then back 
again to sweet girlhood. The old man sat looking 
at her, as she ran on in her girlish glee with her story. 
It was given with much childlike simplicity. Then, 
again, her face would fiush, her eyes flash the fire of 
the tragedy. The Colonel went to the door of his tent, 
saw the Lieutenant sitting on a stump, and said to him, 
“Lieutenant, I guess you are stumped.” 

“Beg pardon. Colonel, I did not get your order, 
sir. ” 

‘ ‘ I did not give an order ; but you may request the 
officers to assemble at my quarters, if you please, sir.” 

Turning back to his seat, he drew in a long breath 
and said: “This is wonderful, wonderful; I have not 
felt so much like myself before since I have been in 
the army. ’ ’ 

He seemed to have forgotten his military deport- 
ment. In the issuing of his orders they were mere re- 
quests, “If you please.” Anna manifested great em- 
barrassment when«the tent filled with officers, and she 
was requested to tell her story again. She said: “The 


220 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


gentleman will pardon, but I would rather not relate 
the story again, if the Colonel please! She was the 
woman again. The Colonel took it upon himself, and 
related as much of it as he could. She corrected a 
few times when he went too far, and gave her credit 
when it was due to others. She was determined that 
the old Captain Brown and her Captain Dick, Uncle 
Dan, and even Pomp, should each share in the glory 
of whatever had been accomplished, in all the events 
narrated. 

This fact, as it stood out boldly, sealed the truth of 
every statement made, as it appeared to them. And 
yet, if some romancer had given it to them they would 
have laughed him to scorn, as much of it was highly 
improbable to one who was not down there at the 
time, when the fire was raging. They with unanimity 
declared it the most wonderful childlife in the annals 
of history. 

These splendid, bronzed, brave fellows, officers 
sturdy soldiers of the line, had led their men with 
sword in hand, on many bloody fields, with paled faces 
and compressed lips; but during the recitation of this 
story many of them manifested a commendable weak- 
ness, characteristic of good and noble manhood. 'There 
are times, under certain conditions, when tears indi- 
cate the tender and most noble characteristic of the 
human heart. 

The old grim Colonel seemed to have dropped into 
a whirlpool of mirth. He chuckled, laughed outright 
and cried by turns. 

“Gentlemen, she has the blood of the old stock. 
The old revolutionists are not dead yet; their spirit 
is still living, and some of them are uncrowned queens 
with royal blood coursing in their ’\jeins. ’’ 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


221 


They had never seen that side of their commander 
before. They looked at him as if they had never 
known him and indeed they had not; he had never per- 
mitted them to know him before. 

“You are right, Colonel,” said a voice near him. 

The Colonel looked about him, as if realizing a mis- 
take in exhaulting his own ancestry, and said to them : 
“Gentlemen, you may retire to your quarters now, 
please. Lieutenant, show the daughter to her rooms, 
sir. Good-bye, my darling.” 

“Good-bye, my dearest uncle, I am coming again 
to-morrow to stay all day with you. May I?” 

“Yes, my daughter, come when you please. You 
have the privilege of the whole camp, and every man 
in it will be delighted to make your stay with us as 
delightful as possible. I have the best regiment of 
officers and men that was ever commanded by an un- 
worthy officer like me. ’ ’ 

It had been less than a week since he had told them, 
while on dress parade, that they were the toughest lot 
of galoots in the United States service. There evi- 
dently had been a change somewhere. 

“Yes, my little one, come when you desire. When 
are you going to send out another letter?” 

“Well, I am going myself, as soon as I can. Good- 
bye, Colonel.” She flew at him again and kissed him, 
and went out with a hop, skip. 

The old Colonel looked dazed for a moment, then 

said, “Well, I’ll be , but I have got to quit that — 

that kind of talk.” 

She was herself again, the veritable happy girl. 
How she did wish Dick could be with her, to enjoy 
with her these happy days. The old Colonel called to 
mind the fact that the girl had bitter enemies and if it 


222 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


were possible they might conspire to kidnap her. He 
called an orderly, and sent for the officer of the day. 

“What is your pleasure, Colonel?’’ 

“Place a double guard around Miss Clark’s quar- 
ters, sir. We are never sure when some of the enemy’s 
spies or vandals may not be prowling around, trying 
some of their devilment. And if one of them should 
be caught trying to harm her, kill him. I say, kill 
him on the spot, sir.” 

“Your orders shall be obeyed. Colonel, with pleas- 
ure, sir.” 

The days went by in quick succession, with but a 
single incident to mar their happiness. Her favorite 
friend. Lieutenant Dixon, was officer of the day. Dur- 
ing the night Anna received a letter from her mother 
down in Tennessee. It was found lying on her door- 
step in the morning. When she found it, her sur- 
prise wa^ equaled only by her overflowing joy. She, of 
course, wanted the Colonel to rejoice with her. Run- 
ning to him with her open letter, his flrst question was, 
how did it get there? She could only explain that 
it was the work of the ‘ ‘ crazy nigger. ’ ’ He must have 
placed it there, for he was a wonderful negro. He 
could do anything. While she expected the Colonel 
to rejoice with her, he continued getting more and 
more angry. He called his orderly and sent for the 
officer of the day. When the Lieutenant appeared, the 
old Colonel was flushed with anger. 

“Sir, I gave you orders to double those guards at 
night, and allow no one to pass, and what does this 
mean, sir?” holding the letter before him. “Some one 
passed your guards and delivered this letter, and re- 
tired, sir, and you say ‘you know nothing about it, 
sir.” Orderly, inform the Major that I want him im- 
mediately.” The Major promptly reported. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


223 


Major, place Lieutenant Dixon and every guard 
on duty last night under arrest until this matter is 
investigated.” Then, turning to the woe-begone officer 
of the day, he said, “Lieutenant Dixon, I have trusted 
you with the most important duties, from time to time, 
of any other officer of the line, but I suppose the enemy 
might have driven a six-gun battery of twelve-pounders 
through your guard line last night, and you would not 
have known it.” 

“Major, appoint a new officer of the day, and a 
new detail of guards, and see that some dumb nigger 
don ’t steal a half dozen of them during the night, sir. ’ ’ 

No one dared to speak or interfere until the Col- 
onel’s wrath cooled off. Anna took her letter and ran 
to her room. An hour later the old commander began 
repenting of his rashness and sent his orderly for 
Anna to come to his tent. She replied, “You just tell 
him I won’t do it.” 

“Yes, my lady, I would not dare deliver a message 
of that kind to our Colonel; he would arrest me.” 

‘ ‘ Then I will tell him myself ; he has you men all 
scared to death. I am not afraid of him.” 

“But, madam, you must go; the Colonel orders.” 

“You just wait a moment, please.” She wrote a 
note to him. “Colonel, I will not come, sir. Anna 
Belle Clark."' 

When the Colonel received the note he seemed 
very much amused ; finally laughed outright. 

“I think she’s got the sand. Then I suppose ‘the 
mountain must go to Mohammed, ’ eh ? ” and taking his 
hat he marched down to her room. She had been cry- 
ing, but smiled as she met him at the door, and took, 
the aggressive, as she said, “Colonel, I am ashamed 
of you, really ashamed of my uncle.” 


224 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


“Well, my daughter, I do not know but I am a little 
ashamed of myself, but I was really provoked.” 

“The poor Lieutenant was not to blame; he did 
the best he could.” 

“The best he could? — ^let a dumb nigger pass his 
guards twice?” 

“But, Colonel, you don’t know that negro; if you 
did, I am sure you would not blame the officer. ’ ’ 

“Tell me, then, what kind of a thing is that nig- 
ger? Can he blow in and out, like the wind, and no- 
body see him?” 

“Yes, Colonel, he can do anything he wants too, and 
no one can hinder him. I know he promised my 
mother to deliver that letter to me, and he did it. I 
know it was him, because I saw the track of his big 
foot in the yard.” 

“Well, daughter, we will go up and talk to the 
Lieutenant. ’ ’ 

“No, sir, we won’t. I will not go one step with 
you. Neither will I ever go into your tent again, and 
I will not stay here another day unless you promise 
to release the Lieutenant. Will you do it?” 

“Ha, my little queen! If you are going to take 
command here I will hand over my sword.” 

“0 no, now, my Uncle Colonel. You play with 
me. This is serious. You said you were ashamed of 
yourself, and I know you were, you are so good. 
Promise to release the young man, won’t you?” 

“Yes, but I will reprimand him first for neglect of 
duty. ” 

“No, sir, you won’t; you will just release him; he 
was not to blame.” 

“I will release him, but what assurance have we 
that you are safe from the enemy, when a crazy nigger 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


225 


can come in and go out and no one tries to prevent or 
knows anything about it?'’ 

‘ ‘ Colonel, you can ’t understand. The enemy is not 
like Pomp. He is a strange, wild man of the woods, 
and no one ever knew anything about him. His best 
friends say he is part man, part beast and part devil.” 

‘ ‘ Then I will release the Lieutenant. If that fellow 
is the devil, I hope he will stay away.” 

“Shall we go now and see the Lieutenant? And 
you will release him and apologize to him, won’t you, 
Colonel, dear?” 

“I will release him.” 

He released the officer and forgot to reprimand 
him Then Anna said, ‘ ‘ Now, uncle, release the guards, 
and we will all be happy again.” 

The Colonel remarked to his Major some time after- 
ward that if she remained with them much longer, she 
would be in command of the regiment. 

A letter came for Anna, from her Captain. Also an 
order from the department commanding general to the 
Colonel to hold his regiment in readiness for marching 
orders. They would likely be needed at the front very 
soon. 

The Colonel had contemplated a visit with his 
protege to surprise Captain Dick, and had written 
Colonel Johnson (Dick’s host) to that effect; hut the 
order for moving rendered it impossible. The girl 
could not go with them to the front, therefore they 
would have to provide protection for her. After con- 
sulting with her it was thought advisable to send her 
with an escort to Colonel Johnson’s residence, where 
Captain Dick was being entertained. The commander 
of the escort was ordered by the Colonel to see her 
safely to her destination, and to consult with Colonel 


226 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


Johnson as to her safety, and if he did not think she 
was absolutely secure there with him to bring her back 
and he would see to having her placed where she would 
be out of danger, if it took the whole regiment to do it. 
This change of location wa-s in perfect accord with her 
wishes. 

*‘0, my dear uncle, I would like to go with you. 
I am afraid for you in the front of the enemy. If 
you are in a battle and are wounded you must let me 
know, and I will come and help you. I have helped 
others, and I could help you.^^ 

The same young officer. Lieutenant Dixon, was de- 
tailed for this escort. He was allowed to take his en- 
tire company of a hundred men; they were the best 
in the regiment. More than a thousand men were at 
headquarters that morning to see her off for the moun- 
tain home. She rode proudly and gallantly that morn- 
ing on a beautiful Kentucky charger. After the men 
had seen her demonstrate her perfect horsemanship, 
they had purchased this magnificent animal and given 
it to her. As she galloped away beneath the starry ban- 
ner, carried by the Lieutenant at her side, she continued 
to throw kisses to the cheering men as long as she was 
in sight. 

The old Colonel wiped away his falling tears, and 
turned to the men and said to them: “My brave 
fellows, this cruel war will soon be over. Then we will 
get to where we shall see many like her. Some of 
you are more fortunate than I. You have them of your 
own, in your own homes; I have none.^’ He passed 
into his tent, and tied the door flaps shut. 

Her advent and exit was to these men a beautiful 
ray of sunshine. Her visit with them had sent new 
visions of home life among them, breaking the tedious 
monotony of camp life. But the old Colonel, the most 


FIRES OP THE SIXTIES 


227 


of all, seemed to have undergone a change. Usually so 
cold and unapproachable, strictly military in all of his 
intercourse with officers and men ; but now genial, kind, 
having a word for every one he met, and a salute with 
a smile, for every officer. He went about the bat- 
talions with an eye to the comfort of every one. Even 
the horses came in for their share. The escort had 
placed forty miles behind them over hill, rocks and 
mountains, when night came. They were ready for a 
good supper and a night’s rest. Colonel Johnson had 
provided amply for their comfort as far as was pos- 
sible. 

To those two — ^Anna and Dick — ^who had loved and 
suffered many sacrifices for each other, the meeting 
was too sacred and replete with that bliss inexpressible 
by any language known by a human heart. After the 
general round of greetings, the genial Colonel Johnson 
deftly arranged matters, so that the young people with 
their servants, might have a quiet hour to themselves. 
The topic of discussion by these four. Captain Dick, 
Anna, Uncle Dan and Pomp, was mostly reminiscent, 
going over the tragedies of the past until the wee small 
hours of the morning. 

The time sped on, 0, so rapidly during the next 
few months. They were waiting the opening and clear- 
ing up of the home country. Uncle Dan had, of his 
own accord, become the overseer and an excellent man- 
ager of the Colonel’s farm. Pomp mysteriously dis- 
appeared periodically, returning out of the Confed- 
eracy with letters from the friends and loved ones who 
were left in the homes. He would pass on North with 
loads of love messages for Tennessee soldiers from the 
Southland. He absolutely refused all offers of re- 
muneration ; he served his country in his own way. 


228 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


CHAPTEB XXIY. 

TWO WEDDINGS. 

The movements and successes of the great armies 
of the North had continued to push back the armies 
of the South. The Northern forces were being con- 
stantly recruited, while the poor brave army of the 
South was constantly depleted. The great battles of 
Chickamauga, the battle above the clouds, and that of 
Mission Ridge had been fought. Victory followed the 
stars and stripes in nearly every battle fought on Ten- 
nessee soil. Tennessee seemed to be one great battle- 
field, consecrating it once more to the cause of liberty. 
The siege of Knoxville had been raised, and except 
for bands of nondescripts and marauding guerillas East 
Tennessee had been cleared of every vestige of “rebel 
chivalry,’’ as it was sometimes called in derision. The 
grand old Union banner had come back to stay. The 
stars and stripes again waved from steeple tower and 
liberty pole, vaulting skyward from gate post and tree 
top, from mountain side and humble valley. Every- 
where the flag was in evidence. Can this sword and 
fire-swept desert ever be made to bloom again? was a 
problem to be solved only by an unseen, but hopeful 
future. Our friends had been longing for the time 
when they might breathe again the sweet fragrance of 
their own mountain homes and share in the privations 
that had come to their dearest friends on earth. 

Colonel Johnson, knowing the great desire of his 
friends, though loath to part with the sunshine of the 
old manor, that had turned it into a new haven of rest, 
announced to ^ his friends that to-morrow an escort 
would arrive to see them to their homes in safety. They 
were overjoyed at the good news. 


FIEES OF THE SIXTIES 


229 


it may please you to go from me I must submit, 
though I am sorry to give you up. But I suppose you 
will and must go, as there are others who have greater 
claims upon you than I; but I shall not know how to 
put in the days without you. When my little curly- 
headed laddie was taken it saddened the home. Then 
the good Lord needed just two more sweet angels, and 
took my little lassies, Susie and Mazie. They were 
seven and ten years old, and a sweeter pair never 
bloomed in the same garden. Mother and I tried to 
comfort each other. But there came a darker day yet, 
and when He took mother (God only knows why) a 
great cloud settled down over my heart, and it has hung 
low ever since. When you came” (looking at Anna) 
“there was the first rift in the cloud, and through it 
rays of sunshine have been pouring in over my broken 
heart ever since, and my soul has warmed back into 
life. But now — and — but now — ” He could proceed 
no farther. His entire body was shaken with the 
storm of emotion sweeping over him. 

Anna put her arms tenderly about his neck and 
kissed the forehead that had grown pale under his 
agitation. 

“Grandpa, we are not going to-day, and we love 
you very much ; you have been so good to us. Why do 
good people have so much trouble anyhow? I don’t 
understand it.” 

“My daughter, it is for the best. I know it, but it 
is very hard to carry the burden at times. You re- 
member reading to me, just the other day, when we 
were having our Bible study, that ‘all things work to- 
gether for good to them that love God?’ ” 

“Yes, do you believe it, Colonel Johnson? I do, 
every word, ’ ’ 


230 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


^^Yes, daughter, the precious promises of God are 
now the stay of my life. There, now, don’t let me make 
you sad with my troubles. I was just a little over- 
come. God has been very good to me, these ten years 
that I have waited for his coming, since mother went 
from me. And I will wait ten more years, if it is His 
will. The cloud has been lighter and brighter for your 
coming. ’ ’ 

“Captain Dick, you have been a brave and noble 
hero, sir. You have accomplished much and sacrificed 
much for one so young, and may God bless you, sir.” 

“My little sunbeam, you remind me of my own, 
and I will introduce you to them, when you come to us 
over there, I am asking God, my dear children, that 
your lot may be a very happy one. 1 only wish you 
could be where your lives could reflect your light along 
my pathway. It helps old people to stay young, when 
they can have the young for associates. But if such a 
blessing is not for me, I will take what God gives and 
not complain.” 

“My faithful old colored friend, God reward you 
for your faithful service to the flag of our country, 
and your friends. They tell me you have a good mili- 
tary record and that you were honorably discharged 
from your regiment for wounds received on the battle- 
field. You and I will not tarry much longer by the way; 
our race is almost run, sir.” 

“Yes, sah, we do’n stay much longah, sah, on dis 
mondane speer; no, sah, hope not, sah; tha thundah ob’ 
de charot whels dun bin rolin’ round rite smart in de 
las fo’ fiv monts, sah. Bres de Lawd, gess she am a 
kumin’, sah. Bres de Lawd!'' and Dan was danger- 
ously near the verge of an old-fashioned camp-meeting 
shout. 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 


231 


Then, turning to Pomp, the old man said: ‘‘My 
boy, I have heard more of you than I have seen. They 
tell me a great deal about your faithful services for 
your friends ; I should have known and seen more of 
you, but you have been so shy, keeping yourself out of 
my sight, when you could. God bless you, be a good 
boy.” 

Pomp had no place in his being for compliments or 
praise. It seemed to completely demoralize him. He 
would begin working his face into grimaces, roll his 
eyes, turn fool and take to the woods. This time Pomp 
simply breathed hard, opened and shut his mouth, 
blinked a few times, whirled about and went on the 
run for the barn and was deaf to the calls for his re- 
turn. 

Captain Dick began a speech of thanks and grati- 
tude to the old Coloned for his kindness to them; but 
the aged gentleman thwarted all efforts at expressing 
gratitude by. leaving the young man with a sentence 
half spoken, as he bowed down on the ground, saying, 
“Let us pray.” 

And what a prayer! What earnest, tender, child- 
like pleading. Up and on he climbed the ladder of his 
faith, step by step. He knew the way, he had gone that 
way before, but now he was taking his friends with 
him, folded in the arms of his faith. How beautiful, 
how sweet, to go up to God with a good man who knows 
the way, and knows his God when he gets there with 
his burdened heart. Pomp had returned during the 
prayer, but seemed perfectly mystified. God and 
prayer to him were great mysteries. His head-wheels 
always came to a standstill when the subject was men- 
tioned. Anna had tried to teach him, but like many oth- 
ers, whiter than he, when God is mentioned, their head- 
wheels stop, and they say, “I don’t know.” They 


232 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


know science and they may be philosophers, hut when 
God claims a place in their knowledge their heads re- 
fuse to work, and they don’t know.” 

After the prayer Pomp was first to speak. ^‘Pomp, 
he go now ; dis niggah he ain ’t gwine wid de big f o ’ks, 
trublin dem quality peple. I’s gwine ter git dar fust, 
an tel dem yo ’ am kumin ’, sah. ’ ’ 

‘‘No, you wait, Pomp, and ride with us.” 

“No, sah, reckon not. I’s nuthin but niggah no- 
how. I’s gwine now.” 

And he was gone, and no one could catch him or 
command him. 

We will not attempt to describe the farewell scene ^ 
at the old manor with the host. Suffice it to say, they 
left him in deep sorrow. Pour days of slow, leisurely 
travel brought them to the old settlement and to the 
home of Anna’s mother (what was left of it). The 
homes of Mrs. Brown, Dick’s mother, also that of Mrs. 
Clark, had been destroyed during the absence of the 
children. These mothers had lived together in one of 
the negro cabins, an old shack, improvised with the as- 
sistance of Pomp, when he could visit them by night, 
during his night raids in and out of the Confederacy. 
Dick’s father had continued in the line of promotion 
until killed in a battle not far from his home. 

The old Colonel Clark, with his Pennsylvanians, in 
one of his expeditions, found himself near enough to 
Anna’s home so that by a little detour he could make 
them a short visit. His coming was an event. When 
Anna saw him dismount from his horse at the gate, 
she was out and fiew into, his arms instantly. It was a 
time of great rejoicing. When the Colonel saw the des- 
titute condition of the families he contributed substan- 
tially to their personal comfort. Fortunately, his com- 
mand was stationed at Knoxville, Tennessee, and it 


FIRES OF THE SIXTIES 233 

i 

was convenient for him to see them again soon. He 
was quite solicitous for the welfare of Anna ’s mother, 
and came as often as the circumstances would permit. 
He was a man of some wealth and was able to help 
them. He finally persuaded Captain Dick to take 
money and rebuild their houses. Captain Dick agreed 
to take it as a loan. 

In process of time new dwellings arose and our 
friends moved into their more comfortable quarters. 
Now the long looked for event was to take place, and 
a quiet wedding was arranged for with the young peo- 
ple while Colonel Clark’s command was stationed 
near that he might be present. The time had come for 
the final ceremony, not to make them one — ^that they 
had been through all the tragedies they had fought 
and offered to give their lives for each other again and 
again. But now their part of the war was over, and 
why wait longer ? They had lived for each other from 
childhood. The day was set. Colonel Clark was in- 
vited to come and bring the whole regiment if he 
wished. A few survivors of Dick’s old company 
who had been released from prison and others who 
had recovered from their wounds, were invited. It was 
a happy gathering. They met and wept like children, 
and rejoiced like school boys and girls. Dick settled 
with his little wife on the old homestead for life, and 
installed Uncle Dan and Pomp as a part of the house- 
hold. 

ONE YEAE LATER. — The war was over, the old 
farm looked better, the new house had been improved. 
Colonel Clark’s visits continued, always leaving sub- 
stantial reminders of his coming. One day Anna said, 
^‘Dick, dear, I believe the Colonel is coming for more 
than mere kinship. Don’t you think so, too?” 


234 


LOVE TESTED IN THE 


^^0, I guess not, Anna. He is lonely and loves com- 
pany, that’s all.” 

“Yes, just like you. You were lonely and wanted 
me for company.” 

Sure enough there was another quiet wedding and 
Mrs. Brown went to Pennsylvania with the Colonel. 

Another year went by and all was well ; each pass- 
ing year seemed to ratify and confirm the truth of 
what our hero and heroine at one time had said, “We 
were created for each other, you foj me and I for you.” 

It was a lovely spring morning. There was a new 
joy in the home. Dick said to Dan, “Uncle Dan, we 
are all here, us four, and one more; her name is Anna 
Clark Brown.” 

“Praise^de Lawd, Massa Dick, dat baby got rite 
smart o’ name, I reckon, sah.” And Pomp made a 
wheel of himself and went rolling off toward the dog 
house. 

And as time swept on, others came to gladden the 
home and be loved, and again to return the love first 
given. Uncle Dan was laid beneath the “juniper tree,” 
according to his request. Pomp lies by his side. One 
other one paled and grew cold one night, and was car- 
ried out of Anna’s fond embrace and was laid by the 
side of Uncle Dan. 

Years roll on before saying good-bye to this cottage 
home in the Southland — look in just once more. There 
is a sweet musical prattle, a laugh and a song, by one 
whose voice is sweeter than that of the birds that sing 
in the trees, in the bloom of the summer tide. A little 
curly-haired midget, who says to our hero and heroine, 
“Dranpa and Dranma.” As she climbs up on to his 
knees she says, “Dranpa, tell me tory, tell me tory.” 
0 Time, whither hast thou swept us? We. were but bqys 


FIEES OF THE SIXTIES 


235 


then. Now we are the “Old Soldiers of the Sixties.’^ 
And very soon the last good-bye will have been said 
by the last one. Is this all? Shall we meet again? Shall 
there be a great reunion in the Celestial City after the 
last bugle note has sounded, Lights out! Lights out!” 




LOVE TESTED 



IN THE 


Fires of the Sixties 


By 

REV. ROBERT , FERGUSON, D. D. 


Late Member of Co. D, 5th Regt. Term., VoL Inft. U.S.A. 




THE SHAKESPEARE PRESS, 




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